


Bates

by IndianaSolo221



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 39,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianaSolo221/pseuds/IndianaSolo221
Summary: Norma never had a chance. Life snuck up on her, taking away the innocence she so cherished. She has an ex husband who hates her, children who cry for her, and a husband who insults her at every turn. Running away was the only option.A sort of AU. Trigger Warnings added.Also featured on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net.





	1. 1

Norma gasped. A nurse walked towards her, bundle in hand. She swore she couldn't have been happier.

Her arms wrapped around what appeared to be a bundle of blankets, but was instead the body of her newborn son. He was surprisingly silent as his skin made contact with hers. "You're so small," she cooed.

She pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Norma could hear footsteps in the hallway; someone was carrying her oldest son into the room. His body appeared to be untouched, but his brow was furrowed with worry. "Dylan! Thank God, you're okay!" she piped, forgetting the sensitivity of her baby's ears. He cried, and she calmed him, rocking him gently. She hugged Dylan with her free arm and kissed his forehead. The four-year-old boy said nothing.

"Dylan, I want you to meet your little brother," she'd said, holding the baby closer to him. Dylan smiled.

"What are you going to call him?" the boy asked, leaning in over his brother curiously.

"Well...I think I'll call him Norman," she said, stroking the newborn's cheeks. "Norman Anthony Bates." Norma smiled, for the first time in a long time, and kissed her baby's forehead lovingly. Norman's birth hadn't been planned, but he'd been the first thing she ever wanted. Pride welled in her chest. She'd even named him herself, too, without anyone else's input. This child was hers, and would be until the end of time.

Norma stayed in the hospital for another day before being allowed to go home. She was lucky to have remembered the neighbour's number, or she might not have gotten home at all. Samuel Bates had missed out on the birth of his son. His wife had no clue where he was now. For all she knew, he was working, or out at the bar guzzling beer.

She'd stopped to nurse as soon as she returned home. Dylan sat on the couch watching cartoons and playing with his Hot Wheelz. She hadn't heard the screen door swing open, or her husband come in howling at the top of this lungs.

Dylan burst through the door, and Norma rushed to cover herself. "Dylan?" was all she'd managed to mutter. It wasn't like him to walk in uninvited.

"Sam's asking about supper," he told her. Norma placed her son in the bassinet near the bed and pulled a blue robe over her thin frame.

"What're you up to?" he asked, dropping a beer bottle in the garbage can.

"I was busy feeding Norman..." she replied, trailing off as she tried to escape into the kitchen.

"Norman? You're stuck on that name, still, huh?"

"It's his name, Sam. It's on his birth certificate, locked in the safe. You weren't there to name him, so I did it myself," she retorted almost angrily. He only sighed and took the remote from Dylan, changing the channel on the TV.

Norma rushed to get supper ready. There was leftover meatloaf in the fridge; she could heat it up and have it done it less than two minutes. She dumped some beans in a pot on the stove and put some bread in the oven.

Norman started screaming. "Is there anything that'll make him stop, Momma?" Dylan asked, holding his hand over his ears.

"I'll have to finish feeding him," she'd said. "How about you go to your room and watch Ninja Turtles, okay?" she guided him away from the hot stove.

"Supper ready yet?!" Sam asked as she breezed past him to check on Norman.

"No, not yet. Soon."

He rolled his eyes.

Norma retrieved the newborn from the bedroom, carrying him over to the kitchen table. She laid a plush blanket there for him to lay on, and placed him there, doing her best to comfort him until he could be fed.

Suddenly, a sharp, irritating noise pierced the quiet kitchen. She cursed. The bread was burnt.

Dylan sped down the stairs, yelling something about fire. Norman slept peacefully on the kitchen table. Samuel grumbled, and Norma pulled the strings on the ceiling fan and waved a cloth in the air near the screaming fire alarm.

"Is there fire?" she could hear Dylan question worriedly.

"Everything's fine," she called, pacing into the living room. "The bread's burnt, but everyone's okay." Norma glanced at Sam, then at Dylan. When she looked at her oldest son, all she could see was Caleb. She turned away, knowing that the burnt bread would have to be properly disposed of.

Five minutes later, she was setting supper between her husband and the television. He sighed.

"Leftover meatloaf?" he asked, poking at it with his fork.

"I've got a baby to nurse, Sam. If you don't like it, you can make something else," she told him, taking Norman upstairs.

Every moment that she spent with her child was perfect. He didn't ask questions, and hardly cried. He was starting to open his eyes and blink at her little by little. They were hazel right now, but she knew they could change as he got older. If it hadn't been for other obligations, she would have stared into those wandering eyes for hours.

"Norma...you coming to bed?" Sam asked, his voice unusually calm.

"No, I think I'll stay up for a little while-- keep an eye on him for a little while longer," she glanced back at her husband with vulnerable, blue eyes. "He's new. He needs to have contact with us as much as possible right now."

For a moment, she thought that Sam might would come over and admire their creation. There was no such luck. The man shrugged. "You can't hold em' forever, Norma," he said, turning up a bottle of aspirin and letting a few of the pills fall into his massive hand.

She shuddered. Would he ignore his son forever, she wondered? He walked over to her rocking chair, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's beautiful," he stated, as if it was something he had always been sure of. "I'm sure you did great."

Norma's heart melted for the man that stood over her now. He might've been a brute sometimes, but he knew how to show her that he cared.


	2. 2

Samuel Bates hadn't always abused her. He wasn't always gentle, and he could be insulting, but he didn't always beat Norma.

It started out like their newborn started his life: very small. It would begin with an insult, and she would retaliate, and he would snag her by the hair and growl into her ear until she cried for him to stop.

"What's your problem?" she asked him one day. "I cook for you, I clean for you, and I'm trying to raise a baby for you...what's your problem with me, Sam?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she replied, fighting the urge to curse at him. "Ever since I brought home that baby, you've been insulting me. You refuse to eat the food I cook and you act like you don't even want to touch me," her breath hitched in her throat, "What's your problem?"

"You- you-" he started to say something, then stopped himself. "I gotta go to work," he muttered, tossing his breakfast in the garbage.

Dylan found his mother crying at the kitchen table.

"Mom- Momma, are you okay?" he asked, poking her shoulder.

She glanced up at him, her eyes red and full of tears. She was biting her lower lip, in vain effort to keep it from trembling as she spoke to her eldest son. "Yeah," she paused, wrapping an arm around Dylan. "I'm okay." She stood, wiping her eyes, and asked Dylan what he wanted to drink.

"Can I have some orange juice?"

"Sure, of course you can," she responded, pouring the sour liquid into his plastic Batman cup. "I think- I think we're going to go do something fun today, Dylan."

"Like what?" the four-year-old questioned, obviously intrigued by the word "fun."

"We're gonna go buy you a new toy, and I'm going to take you to the park. And afterwards, I'm going to take you for your favorite ice cream."

The little boy's eyes were as round as saucers. "Really? But it's not even my birthday..." Dylan said, his words trailing off as Norman started to cry.

"Really, really. Now, you eat up while Mommy feeds Norman, and when we're all through, we can get dressed and go."

Dylan ate faster than Norma could nurse the baby and did his best job of getting dressed. He chose his favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt with some mismatched pants, but Norma didn't care. Today was her day, and Dylan's day, and Norman's day. This day was for them.

Her eldest son did his best to help pack Norman's baby bag, too. He pulled different items from the nursery, asking questions like, "Does Norman need a binky?" and "How many blankets will he use?" in the same tone that her brother used years before.

She smiled and answered his questions as gently as she would have with Caleb, and for a moment was able to forget the horrible thing that her sibling did to her so many years ago. Instead, she found herself being thankful that a sweet little boy like Dylan was given to her.

Norma snatched the keys for the car, dropping them into the pocket of the beige sweater that hung about her thin frame. Baby in hand, and Dylan's hand in the other, she walked the two out to Sam Bates' old car. She switched on the radio, hearing "Achy Breaky Heart" on one of the country stations that her husband listened to.

Norma didn't like country music; she preferred older styles of the genre, at least. However, she hadn't the heart to switch the station after Dylan started singing along in an adorable, accented voice.

It wasn't too long before she found herself singing along to whatever else played on the radio. She eventually switched to one of the pop stations to hear Celine Dion belting one of her many ballads. Her eyes skirted from the radio to the backset of the vehicle, where Dylan was gazing out the window thoughtfully and Norman was sleeping in his carseat.

"Everything okay back there, Superman?" she asked, kicking herself for using an old nickname of Caleb's.

"I was just thinking...if you could change something about yourself, what would you want to change?"

Norma's brow furrowed. He was asking a rather...large question for being such a small boy. "Well...I don't know, maybe I'd like to have a prettier singing voice," she remarked, turning the volume down on what she recognized to be "Bohemian Rhapsody."

"Aw, Mom, you got a pretty voice already. I think if I were to change anything about you, it would be...your hair," he said decisively.

"Yeah?" she questioned, feeling slightly insulted by her four-year-old. "How?" she asked, expecting a silly answer.

"I'd make it shorter. I think you'd look right pretty with short hair."

"Yeah? Well, I used to have shorter hair before you were born. Your father was actually the one who'd suggested that I wear it long."

"I think he was wrong. I think you should've kept it short. I'm sure it's prettier that way," he insisted, pulling at his own short hair.

"You know something," she said, pulling down the visor for a second, "I think you're right."

They arrived at the store twenty minutes later. Norma took her sons down the toy isle, as promised, and watched as her son pulled the biggest super soaker they had into the cart.

"Aren't you a little small for that?" she questioned cautiously.

"Nope. I'm a big boy now, Momma. Which means I get a super soaker!" he yelled, holding the box triumphantly.

"Mm-hmm. I suppose you do, don't you..." she said, glancing casually at the price of the water-shooting firearm. Her heart skipped a beat. Sam would murder her. The super soaker stayed in the cart, with Dylan hugging it until they left the store.

They got ice cream and Norma took her son to try out his new super soaker...with some parental supervision, of course. She only got sprayed half a million times before deciding to call it quits. "Hey, Dylan, I think we're going to the barber shop today," she said, beckoning for him to come closer.

His face sunk. "What? I don't want a haircut!" he said, pulling at his hair again.

"Not you, dear...Mommy wants to get her hair cut short, like you said."

Dylan grinned.

The two packed their things and worked together to get Norman into his seat. When Norma and her family returned home that day, she sported curled, blonde locks.

Sam was not happy.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to give thanks to the people who gave their overwelming support in the comments. It is greatly appreciated, and I hope you keep commenting, because that's what makes me want to finish a story.
> 
> Second, I'd like to explain myself a little bit. When I go into writing a story, I have a few songs in mind that I carry with me and listen to as I write my chapters. One of the first songs that came to my mind after watching Bates Motel was "Used to Be Mine" from Waitress. If you haven't heard it, then go take a listen, either right now or after you've finished this chapter. When I think of Norma, I think of that beautiful song.

Dylan's cries could be heard through the thin walls of their little house.

Norma pulled the comforter up over herself, shivering. Her wrists were purple and pained by every movement. She sniffled, hearing her son arguing with Sam.  
"Give it back, it's not yours!" he demanded, pulling at Sam's shirt. The balding man was holding Dylan's water gun away from him.

"Your mother shoulda never bought it for you, boy. We can't afford it," he drawled. Norma knew that if she was at Dylan's doorway now, she would probably smell alcohol on her husband's breath.

"It's not fair," Dylan grumbled, glaring up at Sam angrily, "It's not fair that you get to have all the fun."

"Shut up, boy."

"It's not fair! Mommy just wanted to look nice, that's all."

"She looked fine before she chopped all her hair off," Sam grunted, walking away from the boy. Dylan still followed him. Norma envied his persistance.

"Can't I please have the super soaker back?" he pleaded. "I'll work for it. I'll help Momma take care of Norman, and I'll clean the house, and..." he trailed off, not knowing what else he could possibly do to get his toy back. "Please?"

"Go away," Sam said, switching on the TV. He cranked up the volume, but Dylan wasn't having it. The little boy stood in front of the television, making faces at his mother's drunken husband.

"I told you to go away!" he yelled, gripping the boy's arm tightly. Dylan howled.

"Hey!"

Sam turned.

"Get your hands off my son," Norma said, holding Samuel's pistol between shaking hands.

"Now, Norma-"

"Let him go, Sam!" she yelled, cocking the firearm. Her husband let go of the boy, and Dylan remained silent, watching the scene with an expression of fear. "Go to your room, Dylan," he stood, frozen. "Dylan, go to your room!" she demanded, using a harsher tone than usual with the boy. He ran upstairs without hesitation.

"If you ever put your hands on my son again, I'll shoot you. And when the police come and ask me what happened, I'll tell them that Samuel Bates was a stupid drunk who put his hands where they didn't belong," she turned away with the pistol in hand before Sam's fist met her throat.

The back of her head met the wooden floor with a thud. Everything was strange and colorful for a second; she saw her own fingers loosening on the firearm before Sam's own hand picked it up, unloading it and placing it on the coffee table.

She came to moments later, remembering only that Sam had punched her in the throat. The area burned; there were knuckle marks printed on the exact spot he had hit. She sobbed. It was a wonder that she wasn't dead.

Sam was nowhere to be found. Norma assumed that he'd probably taken off to the bar, perhaps to drink away the memory of socking his wife in the throat. She sucked in a breath, remembering why he'd punched her in the first place. "Dylan...Dylan, sweetheart, are you okay?" she called, walking upstairs to check on her son. All was silent.

A stream of water shot out at her the moment she stepped foot near Dylan's bedroom. "Ha! Got ya!" he'd said, before noticing the marks that scored his mother's body. "Mom- what happened?"

"Nothing, sweetie," she said, vainly trying to cover the bruising on her neck. "I just...fell, and hurt myself pretty bad," she explained, kneeling to her son's level.  
"I've been standing guard over Norman," the little boy pointed out. The newborn was laying in in the middle of Dylan's room. Norma's stomach filled with dread upon realizing that a drunken Sam could so easily have hurt her sons. "Oh," she paused, "Thank you, honey, I'm glad," she said, making her way over to the baby.

Norman's skin was as soft and pink as usual; there were no signs of abuse on him. She sighed gratefully. "I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered into her newborn's ear. He stirred, and opened his eyes, looking up at his mother groggily.

A smile blossomed between her cheeks. "Hey there, little fellow. Momma's got you," she said, rocking him gently. Dylan's head tilted in a puppy-dog sort of way.  
"Hello, Norman," he said, following his mother to the nursery. "I'm your big brother, Dylan," he held up his super soaker triumphantly. "And this is my super soaker. Maybe when you get a little bigger, you can play with it, too."

Norma chuckled. Dylan reached for his brother's little fingers. "Do you think- do you think he likes me?" he asked, glancing up at his mother with serious concern.

Norma fought the urge to laugh. "He loves you just as much as I do," she promised, hugging her son tightly. "See, with you here, he has a protector," she told him. "When I'm not around, he knows he'll be safe because he has you." Tears glistened in her eyes. She remembered when her own brother used to protect her from their father, who had been a troubled, abusive man.

"Really?" Dylan asked, holding his head a little higher. He clung onto the super soaker tightly. His mother nodded. "I'm gonna go stand guard," he told her, trodding over to the door.

"You go right ahead," she encouraged, before starting to nurse the baby.

The circumstances were hard, yet Norma was determined. That night, she and Sam slept in the same bed. He hadn't said two words to her since the incident, and she shied away from him without question. "Norma," he started.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry. I- I don't know what came over me. I want to make it up to you," he said, turning over to look at his wife. She rolled over, feeling vulnerable.

"Yeah, how so?" she asked wearily.

"Well..."

"Sam, I'm not doing this tonight. I'm tired. I appreciate the offer, but-"

His arms enveloped her gently, and she found herself laying against his chest. "You're mine, Norma Bates," she thought she heard him whisper. "Tonight, you belong to me."


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The upcoming chapter contains brief material that may not be suitable to all audiences; reader discretion is advised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader discretion is advised for the following: Suggestive material, blood.

Norma threw her clothes into a duffle bag. Dylan did the same. She had expected him to ask a million questions, but he remained silent.

"Dylan, Honey, hurry it up. We need to leave before Sam sees us," she explained, pushing him out of the bathroom.

The night before, Sam had started drinking and assaulted his wife for the third time. Norma tried to talk him down, and had even put some distance between the two of them, but he had noticed and taken hold of her anyways.

"Sam...please, don't do this," she begged, grasping for straws at what else to do. Reasoning with a drunk man was hard, and she was still weak from giving birth to their son.

Now, she was driving in the middle of a dirt road with a screaming newborn and a scared, still silent little boy.

She pulled into a hotel and took the cash that was hidden in the seat to pay for a room. "We're all gonna sleep together in one bed, but we have to be really careful because of your brother, okay?" she'd told Dylan. He only nodded, still unaware of the situation but still too nervous to ask. They laid down together in the small bed that night, and Norma watched as her babies fell into peaceful sleep.

She found herself staring at her hands, remembering how she threw out the wedding ring that Samuel had given to her before they were married. She cursed. If you'd had any wits, she thought, you would've sold the blasted thing.

Norma imagined that her time with Sam was long gone. Although she doubted seeing him again, although fear overtook her when she heard a tree branch tapping against the hotel window.

The scared mother laid there, holding her sons close, knowing that time would escape her and that she would soon have to figure out how to feed all three of them. Putting all her money into the hotel might not have been the wisest idea, but she had no choice.

Norma dreamed of Sam. He was waving his hands around in a fit of rage; half a bottle of beer was in his hand. Everything was blurry for a moment, then Dylan appeared out of nowhere behind her husband. She had no idea what he said, but whatever it was made Samuel mad and the drunken man turned on her child. The bottle came down on her son's head; she woke drenched in sweat.

She glanced over her shoulder at the digital clock. It read 7:02. She sighed. Morning came too quickly.

Norma knew she had to do something for her family. Once Dylan had was awake, she asked him to watch Norman before disappearing to check on the car. There was a hole in the seat that Norma used to hide money in, and she slid her hand through it carefully, feeling for anything that felt remotely like paper.

Her heart sank, and she chided herself with a few choice words. There was nothing left.

She only knew of one thing to do, but she couldn't leave her children in the hotel to do it.

~ ~

Norma glanced around the little shopping center. It seemed that every corner was filled with a camera or two; that left only one place for her to successfully shoplift.

She felt that her luck was pretty significant, but knew that it would be soon to run out. There was hardly a soul in the store, and Norma quietly loaded a basket full of supplies before heading in the direction of the women's bathroom.

It had been hours since she'd eaten. Norman was screaming at the top of his lungs. Dylan remained silent except for the growling of his stomach. She was starting to feel dizzy and feared that something might have been wrong, so she left Dylan standing outside the stall with his brother's carrier beside him.

It was only a week since her son's birth, and a visit to the ladies room revealed that she was still bleeding quite heavily. She pulled off her undergarments, cursing at herself for being so careless. While Norma hadn't previously been so queasy at the sight of blood, her current plight was wearing her down, and upon catching scent of the thick, red liquid, she vomited and passed out all at once.

She slipped. Her head hit the door, and Dylan let out a startled yelp. "Mom?"

Nothing.

"Momma!" he called. He thought that he could crawl under the stall to check on her, but was unsure of leaving Norman alone.

A few seconds later, the fear in his gut encouraged him to crawl under the bathroom stall. "Mom?"

He realized very quickly that his mother was unconscious and indecent, and he covered his eyes, letting out a scared cry. "Momma, wake up!" he sobbed, pulling at her arms.

Dylan dashed out from under the stall. His mind told him not to leave his baby brother, but his gut told him that his mother needed him more. He busted out of the restroom and yelled for help with all the strength he could muster.

Alex Romero was an aisle away.

"What's happened?"

"My mother, she's in the bathroom-- she fell and hit her head and has no clothes, and my baby brother is there by himself!"

"C'mon," Romero said, leading the way back to the ladies room.

"She's in here," Dylan said, pointing at the obviously closed stall. Norman was insisting on being fed at this point, and was screaming ever so loudly.

"Is this your baby brother?"

Dylan nodded.

"And your mother, she's in here...she hit her head?"

"She's not moving."

Alex popped the door open, seeing Norma's awkwardly posed body. Her head had fallen with the moving of the door and now landed in the puddle of vomit; Romero's stomach churned but he ignored the feeling, noting that the woman's undergarments were covered in blood.

He checked her pulse. Her breathing was relatively normal. He placed a hand under her head, hoping to place her in a safer position, before her eyes fluttered open and she took on a mortified stare.

"What the- what happened? Where are my sons?" she asked, placing her hands flat against the floor in an effort to push herself up.

"They're fine, they're right here," he assured her, holding her down for a second.

"Momma!" Dylan cried, kneeling to hug his mother. His short little arms hugged her neck, and she held his hand in hers for a moment.

"Are...are you feeling okay?" Alex asked, hating himself for interrupting the mother-son moment.

"I- I'm sorry," she said, avoiding his question. "I just vomited...and slipped...I'll be fine, no need to worry about me," she piped. She stood and wobbled, latching onto the man in an effort to keep herself upright.

"Listen, I think it'd be a good idea for you go to the hospital--"

"Thanks for your concern," she pulled her floral skirt over her bare lower half, "but I'll be fine," she insisted, leaning over to grab Norman's carrier.

"Sorry, but- I'm not asking," he said, stopping her.

She paused, then noticed the patch on his shirt that signified his rank.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Bates family! I'm so very happy to be posting this chapter for eager readers. I'd like to apologize for the extreme delay; life got in the way. I am going to be trying to update this more frequently in the future, considering the support that I've obtained. Thank you all for reading and commenting; it makes my day!

"So you're in the military, then?" she asked, placing Norman's carrier in the back seat of the deputy's patrol car.

"I was in the marines, yes. I'm the deputy now," he said, helping the woman to strap her sons in. "I'll be taking you and the boys to the hospital to get you checked out--"

"That really isn't necessary," she said, climbing into his vehicle anyways. Her words confirmed to Alex that something wasn't right.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not hiding anything," she clarified, "I just don't think this is necessary, that's all."

He wasn't originally meant to be in that little grocery store beside the Chinese restaurant. In fact, he'd probably get his butt kicked by Sheriff Johnson if he was found out. Alex didn't like getting involved in the business of others, and this was seemingly out of his jurisdiction. However, it wasn't every day that he found a woman, an infant, and a toddler in a grocery store bathroom in a failed attempt to shoplift.

"You from around here?"

"As of last night, yes."

"Where are you staying?"

"The Countryside," she replied, nodding in the direction of the inn.

"Care to explain why I caught you shoplifting in a bathroom?"

Norma's face was pale. "I have no money," she muttered simply. "My boys, they need fed...and I have no money," she admitted. Her eyes were speckled with tears. "Whatever you do, please don't take them from me...I couldn't bear the thought of being apart from them, but I don't know what to do," she moaned. "I have no special talents, I can hardly work as it is--"

"I'm not gonna take your sons away. It's not my job. Right now my job is to make sure you're okay, and then make sure that I don't catch you shoplifting again. Understand? If it's a job you need, I know someone you can go to. But if I catch you taking anything from Joe again, I'll be taking you into the station," he warned.

They arrived at the hospital, and the family of three were checked out within the hour. The children were examined first. It was confirmed that both of them were in excellent shape, although the newborn was once again screaming his lungs out. 

Norma's examination took a little longer. Alex received news that there were obvious signs of abuse on the woman, but when asked about it, she refused to say a word. She hated Sam, and didn't want to see him again. She feared that putting him in jail would be too easy, and he would take it out on her if he ever got out.

"You don't have to press charges, but it would ensure that he wouldn't hurt you or the boys again."

"He's never touched the boys," she clarified. "I'm not sure if he would; Dylan's not his anyways. Sam was not inherently violent," she rubbed at the bruised area around her wrists, "he was only violent when he was drunk. He never hurt the boys because I never let him."

Romero rubbed his hands over tired eyes. "Look, I know it's none of my business," he said, directing his eyes towards the door, "but if I were you, I'd at least be looking for a place a little farther from this area...if he decides to come looking for you now, it'll be too easy for him to find you."

"Well, you're rather concerned," she snarked, glancing away from him.

"I'm sure I'm the last person you want to talk to," he replied, "but I really don't want to be back out here later when your husband finds you again."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked. "I've got Norman. I can't work right now, and I don't have the gas to drive to another hotel--"

He sighed. Johnson was definitely going to kill him. "I'll take you to the Seafairer. The tennant there needs someone to help with the place, and you need a job. There's a man in the area who could keep an eye on your sons while you're there..."

"So what, you're just going to pawn me off on a bunch of strangers in a town I know nothing about and expect me to just go along with it? I barely know you."

"I'm sorry, maybe I don't want your kids to suffer because of their mother's stupidity!"

His words hurt, and she fought the urge to cry, knowing they were both tired from the investigation. Alex's eyes were not calm nor gentle. Yet, it was reassuring to know that someone seemed to care. Either that, or he was just hurriedly trying to finish what he had started.

"I just figure it's the least you could do, considering you're no longer getting six months for shoplifting."

She scoffed. "Yeah, 'cause peanut butter and jelly is so valuable."

Norma and her sons were uprooted again; she promised Alex that she would look into getting a job with the tennant of the Seafairer. 

The young mother went in the best outfit she had packed-- a blue and white flowered dress with a matching blue shawl and sash. She carried with her a beige purse that didn't quite match...it was all Norma had, yet she tried to look like a professional.

Norma walked into the Motel office. The mother walked in not knowing of the little girl across the street who would be diagnosed with CF in a few years. She walked in with no foreknowledge of the tragedy she would raise here. The newborn who was now being cared for across the way would grow into a man to be feared and avoided at all costs.

How long would it take, before anyone would realize? Would Alex see the glint in her son's eye as dark visions flash through his mind...or would this be ignored?

Norma Bates would pay the price for this ignorance. She alone would stand before the gates, knowing that she should have asked someone for help before it was eternally too late. The blue sash would soon be red with blood.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at the wiki in order to proofread this chapter...and my heart...hurts! I don't like the way Bates Motel had to end. I won't be specific just in case there are people here who haven't finished the show, but my heart hurts every time and I avoid anything after Season 4's "Unfaithful."
> 
> Anyways, now that you had to endure my moping, I hope you enjoy this little chapter!

The job was simple. Norma would arrive at seven o'clock to go over the list, then check newcomers in until lunchtime. She would stop around twelve and be on break for an hour, during which time she would visit Dylan and feed Norman. She would come back afterwards to start cleaning the vacant motel rooms, then go back to pick up the boys around seven thirty.

Mrs. Summers allowed her to be boarded at the Seafarer for "as long as she needed." She was a kindly gray-haired lady with firey green eyes and a no-nonsense attitude; Norma got along well with her. "Those children of yours are lucky," she told her one day, "to have a mother such as yourself. You don't give up-- that's what I like about you."

It wasn't to say that life was always perfect, or that Norma didn't get frustrated. In fact, she chided herself for spending more time yelling at Dylan than holding him close. There were a few times when the noise got too loud, her eyes were too tired, and the pain came back to her again- she would lose her temper then regain it, apologizing to those around her.

She rarely saw Alex, and when she did, it seemed that all he wanted to do was ask questions. "No, I haven't seen him," or "she hasn't been here," was usually her answer, but there were a few occasions when Norma recognized the face in the picture and was astonished at what she was told.

Within a month of being at White Pine Bay, she came to realize the terrors that enveloped the seemingly-normal little town. It had all started when Alex Romero popped into the office asking about Keith Summers. "What happened to you?" she asked, noting a clean-cut slice above his left eye.

"It's not important, I just need to know where Keith is," he told her.

"Well, I haven't seen him...I don't know what to tell you," she replied, seeming ever so concerned about his injuries. "Why don't you come inside and let me fix that up?" she asked.

He pulled away. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't have time."

Norma had finished being gentle. She reached for the collar of his shirt, catching him off-guard as she pulled him towards her thin frame. "I'm tired of this grumpy, expressionless "I'm a big, strong deputy" crap. I'm taking care of that cut, and if you're patient enough, Keith just might show up."

The deputy didn't argue. He was somewhat surprised to see that Norma had a key to Mrs. Summers house and casually asked where she found it.

"It was given to me," she said, pulling the key from the lock and placing it on the table in the foyer. "There's a first aid kit in the kitchen, if you'll follow me this way," she said, directing him into the kitchen with the air of a perfect host.

She pulled a kit from the older woman's medicine cabinet. "What got you all banged up?" she asked, still wondering why Alex was asking for Keith.

"Oh, nothing much. Just got in a fight with a guy at the bar," he lied. He hadn't been to any bar. The deputy had been driving his vehicle near the outskirts of town when he was pushed off the road-- his airbag had deployed, almost breaking his nose. He pulled himself out of the vehicle in a hurry, and was socked in the face by a man in a suit. The man was blonde, with glasses that were framed with thick, black plastic. Alex got him in a chokehold, asking what he heck he thought he was doing. It was then that he had spotted a young girl in the backseat of Abernathy's car-- he was distracted and the stranger disappeared within an instant.

A card had fallen out of the man's pocket...it directed Romero to the Motel, where Norma was currently swabbing the cut over his eye.

He watched her expression change as she studied him carefully, taking in each crevasse of his face. Her hot-red lips pursed and her brow set with determination as she wiped the blood from his cuts and filled a bag with ice to place over his eye. He smiled.

"Oh my," she said, sighing.

"What?" he asked, suddenly worrying that he might've been hurt worse than he thought.

"You smiled. I thought your face was paralyzed."

"Uh-huh...I'm pretty sure I didn't smile."

"You don't agree with anyone, do you?"

"Oh, like you have any room to talk."

"At least I don't--"

The door slammed shut, making Norma jump. Romero's hand moved to his sidearm reflexively. "Norma, are you here?" a familiar voice called. Alex calmed.

"Yes, I'm here," she called back, walking into the foyer to meet their visitor. He had Norman in one arm, Emma in the other, and Dylan by his side. Norman started to whimper.

"I'm sorry to disturb your work, Norma, but I can't seem to figure out what's the matter with Norman," he said, bringing the baby towards her. Norman let out an ear-piercing scream.

"Oh, it's fine-- Oh, my, Norman, what's that all about?" she cooed, bringing him in close to her.

"It's normally no problem at all, but he's been crying for a long time. I've kept an eye on him and checked his diaper...he seems fine, physically."

"I just fed you a little bit ago," she said, directing her gaze to the crying child. At first, she thought he'd calm-- he only screamed louder.

"Will he need a ride to the doctor, you think?" Mr. Decody asked.

"I'm not sure," she said, then turned to Alex. "Sorry that I couldn't help you further," she started, "but you're free to stick around if you want to wait on Keith."

He shook his head. "I'd better get going," he replied, nearly yelling over Norman's tears. He felt a pang of guilt at not offering advice to the young mother...he'd never had children. "If he does pop in, try to get him to stick around, will you? I really need to speak to him."


	7. 7

Norman was what one might call a "colicky" child. He cried so often sometimes that Norma herself swore he would never stop. Will seemed to take it in stride, but the baby's mother was afraid of loosing her sitter.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Decody. I don't know what makes him like this," she said, bouncing him from one hip to another.

"It's alright Ms. Bates. I don't mind it much-- sometimes babies just cry, that's what Emma's doctor says."

"I wish there was something I could do to calm him," she muttered, trying now to rock him instead. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling; she suddenly felt incredibly helpless. "I should just take him back to the room. There's no way I'm going to be able to clean motel rooms like this."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't be more helpful," he said, guiding Dylan towards the door.

Norma noted that there was no one at the front desk. She took Norman's crib in and placed it behind the desk, deciding to work from there. "You can stay here, if you want," she told Dylan, "Or you can come to the front desk with me."

"I wanna watch cartoons in the room."

"That's fine, just lock the door and don't let anyone in until I get back."

Norman continued to cry. Norma wanted to cry. It bothered her that her son could not be calmed; it made her feel incompetent. Her work was far from over, as there were people pouring into the Motel. Most of the visitors glared at her judgingly, while others looked on with sympathy. She greeted them all the same way, telling them that she was happy they had chose to stay at the Seafarer, and to "please excuse the screaming child in the background" in so few words.

Mrs. Summers eventually came to get her. "My goodness, dear, how long has that child been fussing?" she asked.

"He's been like this for three hours," she said. "Will and I took him to the doctor. As far as they know, nothing's wrong with him, he just-- cries, a lot."

"Keith was the same way. I'll tell you what, why don't you go buckle him in the carseat and we can go for a drive, okay?"

Norma nodded. She retrieved Dylan from the Motel room-- he asked why her makeup was smudged.

"I haven't had time to fix it. Your brother won't stop crying, so you, me, and Mrs. Summers are gonna go for a drive."

Dylan switched off the television reluctantly.

The three drove further into town with no map other than their own minds. Dylan chatted away to a subdued Norman in the back seat...Mrs. Summers had something she wanted to talk to Norma about.

"How's it been...you know, working at the motel?" she asked.

"It's great," she told her, sounding a little more enthusiastic than how she really felt. "It's an easy job-- I mean, not too easy, but easy enough that I can take care of the boys, you know," she said. Her thoughts drifted to Alex. "Oh, I should tell you, Deputy Romero was at the motel today."

Joyce looked concerned. For a moment, Norma worried that she would be chided for not telling her sooner.

"He was pretty beat up, so I took him in to clean up his face," she said, "He asked if I knew where Keith was. He didn't seem too worried, in fact, I think he would've stayed around if it wasn't getting so late," Norma's gaze turned to Norman and Dylan. They were both fast asleep in the back of Joyce's car.

She sighed. "One more thing to ask Keith about," she muttered. The older woman must have noticed the worried expression on Norma's face, for her next words were more carefully chosen, "It's not your fault, I can tell a stressed mama when I see one. You've got quite the handful with these two."

Norma had turned in her seat and was gazing at her sons lovingly. "I love them so much-- I want the whole world for them. I'm hoping that sometime soon we'll be able to get ourselves a place...not that I don't appreciate the favor, it's just..."

"A motel room is not the place to raise children, I know."

The conversation was interrupted by the blue lights of a cop car. Mrs. Summers pulled to the side of the road carefully, racking her brain for whatever might have happened to get them pulled over.

Alex Romero shuffled out of his car. "What are you two ladies up to tonight?" he asked.

"Just taking the girl here for a ride...trying to calm a baby. How about you?"

"Standard patrol. I'm kinda bored, to be honest."

Norma chuckled.

"Any reason for you stopping us, officer?"

"I just wanted to be sure it wasn't an emergency," he said, winking at Norma. She giggled again, and his eyes met hers before he suddenly appeared to be serious. "Have you seen your son in the last twelve hours?" he asked.

"No, Norma was just telling me that you needed to speak to him. Care to tell me if it's serious?"

"Nothing too bad, just personal matters."

"I am his mother. It doesn't get much more personal."

Romero chuckled. "Just let me know if you see him, okay?"

"I will."

"He's always so serious," Norma stated, rolling the window back up.

"He can't help it, dear. It's just the way he's always been."

Norma surpressed a huff. "So, you've known him for a while, then?" she asked, leaning an arm against the doorframe.

"His mother-- was a dear friend of mine," she said. Her voice was edged with grief. "She passed away three years ago...committed suicide. Theresa wanted to see the good in everyone; it burned her up to find out--" Joyce visibly paused.

Norma placed her hand in the older woman's lap. Joyce took it and squeezed it. Tears formed in her eyes. "This is not a good place for you, Norma Bates. We really should have never let you come here," she warned. The change in her demeanor terrified Norma, yet she kept a calm expression on her face. "You never should have come here."


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry for the lack of updates. I've had a chapter on my laptop for a while that I wasn't sure about, but I think it's ready to be posted. Enjoy!

*TRIGGER WARNING*

Joyce was away when it happened.

Norma was alone-- cleaning one of the vacant motel rooms. The boys were not too far away, and were staying with Mr. Decody and his daughter, Emma, who was only slightly younger than Norman.

She sprayed the clear liquid onto the wooden nightstand and wiped it vigorously with a cloth. The young woman was wearing neon-yellow gloves; she didn't want to know what people did in motel rooms. Joyce seemed to keep the place up, but occasionally a really messy guest would throw a room all out of wack.

Norma didn't hear her assailant's footsteps behind her, penetrating the wooden walkway. She didn't notice the sizeable, sharp knife in his hand...the one he had used only days ago to skin a squirrel.

He approached her with anger in his head and hatred in his heart, yet these feelings did not express themselves on the man's face. He placed the knife in a sheath on his belt and smiled charmingly at her. Norma grinned back at him. "Hello, Keith, how are you?" she asked, addressing him in a friendly manner.

"I'm doing quite well," he managed. His gate was slow and lumbering as he walked towards her, nearly backing her into the small motel room.

"You know, Romero came over here the other day looking for you. Said he wanted to speak to you about something. Have you talked to him yet?" she asked, merely attempting to make conversation as she threw a pile of dirty towels into a wastebasket.

"Oh, I've talked to him alright," he said, grinning.

Norma glanced up from her task. "Oh?"

"We talked. Nothing serious. Just a little accident that occurred last week," he told her.

"Well, I'm glad you two got it sorted out."

"About that--"

Keith pulled the knife on her. Her face fell, and she just barely dodged him as he swung it at her violently. "What are you doing?!" her scream was a mixture of shock, fear, and alarm.

"I'm getting back what's rightfully mine, that's what!"

Norma had no idea what Keith could've been talking about, and she had no time to think on the matter before he backed her against the nightstand, looming over her with the knife. She grabbed the only available item she could find and swung at him with the lamp that had been sitting on the nightstand.

"You'd best have better aim than that, girl," he mocked, stepping out of the way. Norma attempted to go after him again, yet fear rose in her chest when her legs were knocked out from under her, leaving the lamp shattered in her arms.

She laid in the floor, completely defenseless and hardly able to ponder even the pounding of her heart. It was apparent that at one point Keith touched her; her body jerked in response yet the hit to her head restrained her movement. Norma hadn't the energy to push herself up until her mind had comprehended what he was about to do.

The young woman screamed-- he slapped duct tape over her mouth. She tried pushing against him...he had a pair of cuffs ready to take her prisoner with, and he did just that.

He threatened her. "If you ever try coming in here and taking this place from me, I'll hurt you good."

She cried. "I don't know what you're talking about--"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I won't have it." his rank, stinking breath penetrated her own. Norma was confused. Keith continued, "If you ever try taking this place from me, your boys won't survive the pain of what I'll do to them."

She thought she might vomit; it was as if there were stones in her stomach that refused to go away. Her mind was racing-- she didn't want to imagine what Keith might do to her children, and she fumbled in an effort to reason with him. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt my boys," she pleaded. Just when she started to go numb from the pain, a fleshy hand jerked her head up by the scalp. Her skull was on fire, yet she remained silent in the hopes that he would get no more pleasure from her pain.

"You promise me, then?" He growled.

His questioning felt ridiculous to Norma. It was as if there was a five-year-old standing in front of her, holding out his pinky for a pinky-swear. If it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation, she might've laughed at the absurdity. "I promise."

He dropped her. His left leg came over her as he walked out of the motel room, leaving her half naked and surrounded by broken glass and spilled cleaning supplies.

Keith drove away without another word.

Norma sat on her knees in the floor, crying. Her tears lasted a few minutes before she pondered what to do with herself.

She knew that she should tell someone what Keith did to her. It would make all the sense in the world for her to go to the police, the sheriff, anybody-- at the moment, there was still a possiblity of catching the criminal red-handed.

Still, there was always the possibility that no one would believe her. She hadn't been here that long, and if she came out about Keith now, there would be shame-- shame on her for being alone, shame on her for "provoking" or "seducing" Keith. Shame on the boys who, at the moment, could not understand what happened even if they had seen it with their own eyes...Norma thanked God that they had not been present for the havoc that he had wreaked.

Even if everything went well, even if Norma did have help, there would always be the fear. The fear that, one day, Keith Summers would obtain a "Get Out of Jail, Free" card and hunt her down for ever telling anyone what had happened in that hotel room.

Her body was rigid as she rose to clean the mess around her. She surpressed a pained sigh as she leaned to reach the broom, snatching it quickly in order to clean up the broken lamp. One of the beds was untidy from the struggle; she fixed the sheets and moved on, placing her supplies on the cart and pushing it out in front of her before she closed the door on room number six without looking back.


	9. 9

Norma shifted uncomfortably underneath Joyce's gaze.

"Norma, dear, are you hearing me?"

She came to just in time. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, I'm going to run into town for some lunch, and to get new shower curtains. I need you to stay here until I get back. If Mr. Decody wants to bring the children over, that's perfectly fine."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine here."

Her words seemed to assure herself more than Joyce.

Norma shifted again, then stood. She fiddled with the items scattered across the front desk, straightening cards and flipping through the checklist. She had picked up two habits in her short lifetime: when she was a little nervous about something, she would cook for herself and Dylan, but when she was extremely anxious, she cleaned everything. She figured there could be worse habits to fall back on.

Keith was in the house. He had walzed past the hotel earlier, glaring daggers at her. She grimaced. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She fought the urge to vomit.

Once again the sensible part of her spoke. I should tell Romero what happened. Her shoulders bounced as she shook the thought away.

You know what will happen if you tell anyone. You'll have to move again, and Dylan and Norman will never be okay if you have to keep moving. You would have to find a new job, because nobody wants to come to a motel where the son's tennant is a crazy pervert. It'd be harder without Romero to fall back on, he's the one that got you this job in the first place.

It wasn't fair. Why did she have to be the one with an abusive father, a sick mother, a terrible brother, and a drunk husband? Why did Keith Summers attack her? What did she do to deserve this?

I'm not good enough. Never have been-- she cut off that thought right there. She would get nowhere with self pity or self hate. It didn't matter what she did; the world always just seemed to be one step ahead, and it seemed that it would be that way forever.

Norma trodded out from behind the front desk. She had files to go through, a motel room to clean, and boys to take care of. If she was going to be here around the same time as any guests, she needed to get the gears grinding. It was February in White Pine Bay, and the weather was cold as ever. There were few tourists, and those that did come came late in the evening when the surrounding businesses were starting to close. Still, it would be easier to rest knowing that she'd finished a full day's work.

No matter what she did, Norma couldn't quit glancing at that house.

It really could be a gorgeous place, with the proper care, she mused. Norma could easily imagine the house with a fresh coat of paint, some rose bushes along the sides, and some new curtains. She had only seen the foyer and kitchen of the house, yet her mind wondered what the rest of it was like.

The blond-haired, lithe woman pushed the door open with her hips, holding cleaning spray in one hand and a rag in the other. She bent down next to the nightstand, hissing as she sprayed a dark brown blot of goodness-knows-what. Norma quickly noticed that the carpet behind the stand was torn up. Her brow furrowed.

She used all her strength to pull the stand out from near the wall. The young woman gazed carefully at the spot on the carpet, trying to explain the bulge underneath it.

She crept towards it carefully. It could be anything. A body part, a lost belonging, even an animal. There was no telling what the people brought in, of that she was already sure. Her mind went back to a fiasco in which a man hid his pet snake in this same room. She bit her lip and mustered up the courage to inspect the bulge. Her fingers shook. She pulled it back and jerked, expecting an python to strike at her from its hiding place.

Instead, she found a journal. It was black and well-worn. She opened it out of curiosity and the hope that she might find a name written inside.

There were names in the book that Norma didn't recognize, and writing that she couldn't make sense of. Hardly half of it was in English, and what was happened to be a jumbled mess.

It was the art of the book that shocked her. It was as if whoever placed the journal here hoped that a story could be gathered from it, no matter what language one spoke. There were syringes with needles the size of her middle finger. Scantily-clad girls who's eyes looked as if they feared for their lives. Norma kept looking behind her as if she expected someone to catch her or hurt her.

"Hey, Norma, how's it going?"

She slammed the journal shut and shoved it in her apron. "Alex. What a surprise. What are you doing here?" she asked, standing to greet him properly.

"Just making my rounds and thought I'd come up here and check on you. You seemed to be having quite a time with that baby last week."

"Norman-- he cries all the time. I almost feel bad for leaving him with Mr. Decody all the time," she admitted, shoving a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I uh...I have no experience with children, so I can't really...help."

Norma merely smiled at his boyish charm.

He wiped his face swiftly, then placed his left hand over his holster. "Look, uh-- I was wondering, there's this little shindig going on in town tonight, and I thought maybe...well, you've been here a month and have hardly been able to get out of the motel, so I thought you might like to come-- with me."

"Shindig, huh? Not sure I've ever been to one of those," she teased.

"There's gonna be hotdogs, smores, and hot cocoa. It's pretty nice."

She sighed, remembering what had happened with Keith. She was alone with Romero now. A part of her wanted to blurt out, Keith did something to me, something...bad, but it felt like terrible timing for a childish statement.

"I'll go with you tonight."


	10. 10

The shinding was prettier than expected. Various shops lined a narrow street, and Norma could smell popcorn popping as they passed a vendor who was selling hotdogs, popcorn, hot cocoa, and smores kits.

"You want something?"

"Sure," she said, blushing sweetly.

"Come on, I know you're not shy. Two cocoas and hotdogs?"

She nodded.

Norma was imagining seeing Keith here. She pushed her imaginations away as the deputy paid for their food and shot a soft smile in her direction. She sauntered over and gingerly helped him gather their dinner before retreating to a wooden picnic table. These were part of a circle surrounding the log-cutting area, where they could watch some of the artists of the town carve animals out of wooden stumps.

"It's really pretty, this little town of yours," she commented, taking a sip of her cocoa.

Although Romero's gaze was no longer as soft as before, he spoke with her as if she was his equal. "It's not too bad, I suppose." He only hoped that she would never discover how deadly this quaint town really was.

"Have you always lived around here?"

"Yeah, me and my parents...it's all I remember."

Norma fiddled with her dark navy braclet, then glanced up to see a heavyset man wielding a chainsaw. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as he bent down to the closest stump and started hacking away. "Is that a common thing around here...wood?"

Her partner chuckled. "Interesting, huh? Makes us look like a bunch of country hicks, I'm sure."

She allowed a smile to form from one cheek to the other. "I've seen worse, believe me."

"Yeah? Where'd you grow up?"

"Ah...Ohio."

He grinned a little at this. For a few minutes, neither of them of them spoke, and he caught her glancing at the makeshift dance floor nearby.

"You dance?"

Norma glanced back up at him, confused. She tucked a strand of blonde hair back into its place. "Wha-- oh, no. I mean, I have danced before...not professionally, just-- you know, for fun. I wouldn't mind learning to dance....professionally. I mean," she paused, "I'm horrible at this. I'm so sorry. I haven't done this in so long," she moved away from the table with a swift grace that Romero envied. He felt bad as he watched her smile disappear. "I should go, the boys need me."

At first, the young deputy was frustrated that she would leave him so easily. Then, he remembered how he found her in that supermarket a month ago. Fragile. Broken. Determined to stay alive.

"Don't go. I know it's awkward," he mumbled. "I'm not good at this either. Never have been...now Keith," his expression became stony. "He was always a ladies' man."

The words made Norma sick.

Romero didn't see the change in demeanor. He stood, leaving their belongings at the little wooden table. "C'mon. Let's dance."

He brushed her hand briefly, and her eyes wandered down his thin, yet well-framed body. She pulled away from him in a shy manner, before noting the gentle tone of his eyes. "Okay."

The deputy pulled her into a soft embrace. She fought the urge to inch from the fingers that were brushing her arms ever so lightly, sparking a fire in her heart. They waltzed gracefully to a power ballad that Norma couldn't remember the name of; all she knew was that Romero's hands had moved to her waist. She laughed.

"What?" He barely smiled. Instead, he looked worried by her sudden amusement.

"This is so weird," she admitted. "How many mothers are raising their kids in a motel room, going out with the deputy of a little rinky dink town, and dancing as awkwardly as they did at prom?"

Her heart dropped as a dejected expression crossed Romero's face. "Not that I'm not having a good time, it's just-- I mean, I just keep wondering when things are going to go wrong--"

His fingers pressed against her lips. "Shhh....just listen."

Norma's smile grew. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him generously. He smelled nicer than she expected, and she almost commented on it, but the warmth of the moment stopped her.

The music was louder now, but to the two in the middle of the floor, it had faded into the background. When it stopped, they were left waltzing alone to radio fuzz.

They walked the streets for a few more minutes before returning to Romero's vehicle. Although he knew a quick way to get back to the Motel from here, he took the long way just so he could keep his eyes on the woman at his side.

Norma sat in his car, shivering against the cold night's air. The young woman that had forgot her coat was now paying the price with the gooseflesh on her arms.

"Here," he pulled his own coat from his body and draped it across Norma. His date seemed as a little girl compared to the gratuitous seat of the cop car.

"Oh, thank you."

The drive was comfortably silent. Although Ms. Bates had denied it, Romero swore that by the time he got her back home, she had drooled all over the passenger seat in her quest for sleep. In the end, he walked her back to her room, planted a kiss on her hand, and watched as she crept back through the motel door.

Keith was sitting in a chair beside the bed. Inside the bed, Dylan was fast asleep with the blankets curled around him like a nest; one-month-old Norman was sprawled out beside his brother with pillows on either side.

"Hello, Norma Bates. Fancy seeing you here, again."

Her voice sliced through the thin motel walls. "What do you want, Keith?"

Mr. Summers feigned an innocent look. "Oh, come now Norma, I haven't come to ask anything of you. Mother just asked if I could watch the boys, you know, since you're coming in so late."

"I can tell Romero what you did to me. He'll take you to jail," she threatened.

He was on her in an instant, like a serpent on his prey. "I'm friends with every cop in this town, and you'd better not forget it. Who do you think they're gonna believe, good ole' Keith Summers," he gestured towards himself, "or the whore who works at the motel?" her eyes narrowed as he waved in her direction. "If I were you, I'd think about that."


	11. 11

A broom wisked against the linoleum floor.

Dylan's birthday was coming up, as was the end of her first year at White Pine Bay. Things had not been as good as the young mother had hoped.

Norma was almost always alone with Keith. At the beginning of every month, he would talk her into letting him clean the motel rooms. She originally shrugged it off, feeling that he must be hiding something but not caring to know what the "something" was.

A crash at the end of the room brought the busy woman from her thoughts. "Dylan? Is everything alright?" she asked, pulling herself from her task.

On the floor was a busted lamp. Norma sighed.

"Dylan, what have I told you about playing with your baseball in the room?"

His lower lip trembled. "To....not to play with it in the room..."

Her pointed glare faltered. She wrapped her arms around her son's shaking body. "It's okay, baby, I'll pay for it later, just promise me you'll be more careful next time, okay?"

"Alright," he muttered. Norma pulled away from him, and he perked up ever so slightly. "Can I go outside?"

She nodded. "Go on, but stay on the property, where I can see you. And don't throw the ball around too close to anything breakable."

She watched her son lumber out of the room with a plastic bat and a baseball in his hands. He was soon to be five, and already growing up too fast. Mr. Decody was always commenting on how observant he was for his age, teasing, "You better watch that one, Mrs. Bates; he's a quick thinker, but he keeps things to himself."

The young woman reminisced about her brother for a moment before moving to clean up the broken lamp. Her hands fumbled around the pieces. She picked them up and examined them, as if a little hot glue would fix the problem. One of the glass bits sliced her finger open, and she hissed as blood dripped from the wound.

Norma moved quickly, hoping to keep blood from splattering on the floor. She winced in pain as her head hit something solid, sending stars to her eyes. "What the--"

She paused.

Her hands pulled at the leather bound book that was sitting in the open drawer. Unsure as to how it got there, she thumbed through the pages to see if anything had changed.

The words and pictures were still the same, except now there was blood smeared against the pages. Norma momentarily forgot about her hand and immersed herself in this horrific new world; it became suddenly apparent to her what this journal was all about. "Who would write something like this?" she wondered aloud, glaring at the book skeptically.

A car driving into the motel lot pulled her from her thoughts, and she threw the book back into the drawer. The woman waiting in the office gave her an incredulous stare. "Hello, welcome to the Seafairer Motel, I'm sorry to tell you that we are booked for the next week, although I can offer you some phamplets regarding our little town of White Pine Bay." 

The woman's expression changed to offended; Norma had been getting a lot of that lately. There was a group of men who had booked out all the hotel rooms during the first week of the month, yet Joyce insisted on keeping the vacancy sign on. It was really quite embarrassing, yet Norma had learned not to question it. Joyce was a friendly woman, but her employee feared wearing her thin.

Joyce knew that Norma couldn't possibly live without being paid something; she essentially paid for their whole living in return for Norma's work. It was a somewhat awkward arrangement, and she worried that it was one-sided, but Joyce was rarely around to complain. Mrs. Bates never asked about the money, yet tomorrow was her son's birthday, and she had nothing to offer him.

The customer took one of the phamphlets and walked right out the door. That when well, Norma thought.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed when deputy Romero walked in, holding a paper bag between his hands. "That looked like it went well," he said, smiling at her.

Norma didn't smile back. "We're all booked, but Joyce wants to keep the sign on. I guess maybe people will remember we're here."

The doorbell rang behind him as Dylan busted through the door, looking quite pleased but also somewhat frantic. "Hey Romero, can you help me? I lost my ball in the street! Momma says I can't go out into the street alone, I have to have an adult with me."

Norma's smile increased as she watched their encounter, and an idea formed in her mind.

"Sure thing, kiddo," he followed Dylan out the door, and Norman watched as he guided her son carefully into the street to pick up his ball. Once the ball was secure, the deputy lifted Dylan with ease and carried him from the road, right before a vehicle passed by.

Dylan was excited as ever when the two came back in. "Did you see that, Momma? Romero helped me rescue my ball!"

Norma chuckled, smiling at her son's excited blue gaze. "What do you tell him?"

"Thank you, Romero."

"You're welcome, kid."

Norma waited until Dylan disappeared to speak to Romero. She bent herself towards him, hoping in this moment that he found her attractive. "Look, Alex, there's something I need your help with tomorrow..."

"Yeah?"

"It's Dylan's birthday tomorrow, and I want to throw him a surprise party at the park. I'll have to keep Norman with me, since Mr. Decody is away, but I was wondering..." she averted her gaze to her youngest, who was rolling around in a crib beside her, then back to Dylan, who was swinging his bat around outside.

Romero sighed heavily. "You want me to keep an eye on Dylan. I can't tomorrow, Norma, I'm on duty."

Norma rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "So? Just drive him around in your patrol car, he'll love it!"

"It wouldn't be safe!"

"C'mon, you guys have child locks on those things, don't you--"

"Emergencies only. I can't have Dylan with me on duty, Norma. I could get in trouble with the Sheriff."

"It is kinda an emergency, isn't it?" she asked, her blue eyes pleading with this brown ones.

He sighed again. His hands never moved from his hips. "I'll think about it. But don't be surprised if I have to say no."

"Thank you, Alex, thank you so mu--"

She fell silent as his lips landed on hers.


	12. 12

Somewhere in the rolling dizziness that was sleep, a phone buzzed.

Romero woke with a start. He slammed his hand down on the bedside table, knocking all its contents into the floor except one.

A phone, on which Norma's picture appeared as it buzzed. He swiped right, and held the phone to his sweaty face. "Where are you?! Dylan's been sitting at the school waiting for you!" He whisper-cursed when he thought Norma couldn't hear him. "I heard that. Listen, Dylan's still at the school waiting, and I needed you to be there thirty minutes ago..."

"Why can't he take the bus?"

"Alex, you know exactly why he doesn't take the bus."

"I've tried talking to him, you know," he said, holding the phone with his shoulder as he fastened his belt. "He won't listen to me."

The other end was silent for a moment. "I know you're trying, Hon. Kids are hard, and Dylan's not really used to this."

"Yeah, well...I don't know what I should do. He hardly speaks to me, even when we're alone. It's awkward for him, Norma, and I don't want it to be."

"Well, at least Norman likes you," she mused. She swore she could feel him grinning on the other end of the phone. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, alright."

It seemed like only yesterday he kissed her for the first time.

In the three years that she had lived in White Pine Bay, she had become his best friend. Recently, their comaraderie had developed into something more. She admitted that she felt safer with him around. He offered to let her come live with him. Few of her things were left at the motel after that.

Now, Dylan was in school, and was (unfortunately) making more enemies than friends. Romero was getting fed up with it, but he understood that this was Norma's forte, not his. Dylan was, after all, her son, and any decisions regarding him were made by her. However, he was having a hard time ignoring the fact that Dylan was getting beat up every day, and had been itching to teach the boy how to defend himself.

"I don't want him going around punching people."

"He wouldn't just be "punching people" Norma, he'd be defending himself. I'm tired of seeing him come home with a black eye, and you should be too."

"He's eight years old, Alex. There must be a better way to handle this. I'll talk to the school board."

Problem was, the school board decided to remain uninvolved. Now, Romero was sort of getting his wish, although it wasn't quite going as planned.

The young, sandy-haired boy hopped in and slammed the door. There was a bleeding cut above his right eye.

"Is it Steve again?" Romero asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Alex wasn't sure how to respond. He'd never had much to do with children before Norma's, let alone her very silent, eight-year-old boy.

~ ~

Back at home, Norma was having her own problems.

"What is this?"

Norman blinked at her. 

"What--where did you even find this?!?"

The little boy looked on the verge of tears. He carried her over to the dresser, and pointed at the drawer that he'd pulled open

It came back to her suddenly. The memory of hitting her head on that drawer on the dresser, finding where she misplaced the book. She had gotten so caught up in tending to the motel that she forgot all about it, and it somehow lay there, untouched, for two years.

~ ~

Upon arriving home, Romero was greeted happily by Norman. "Where's Mom?" he asked.

"She's at the table," he informed them, pulling Romero by the shirt to where Norma was.

The young blonde was staring pointedly at the screen of her laptop. Her lips moved to form soundless words that Alex didn't understand. Beside her lay a small, well-worn journal held together with a breaking, brown strap. "What's all this?" he asked, reaching for her shoulder.

She glanced up at him, surprised, then snatched the journal between her two hands possessively. "I found it in the room we've been staying in. I don't know what all this means, I've just started translating..." she handed it to him and he took it. He began flipping through it with a confused glance.

"I know this place."

"What?"

"I know this place," he paused, "from before Sheriff Johnson passed away. It's not important, there's nothing over there anymore anyways."

Her eyes narrowed as she considered his stance. "You're lying to me."

"Wha-- Norma, I'm not lying to you. It's not important. You should just drop it, and let me take the journal. It could be linked to an old case..."

"What old case? What happened?!?"

He put a hand out to grab her shoulders, which only made her angrier. She cursed, then exploded into a ball of emotion. "Just tell me!" Her balled fist landed against his chest.

He glanced back at the boys. Dylan was at the table now, sitting with a glare on his face that was as stiff as a board. Norman just looked confused.

"Nothing happened."

She snatched the journal from his hand and burst upstairs. Romero could hear the dresser hitting the wall as she banged things around in the room. Eventually she came out, wearing a strangely fashionable hat and raincoat, and carrying a flashlight in her other hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see this place, and figure out what's up with this journal. Boys, I'm gonna be gone for a few minutes, you listen to Alex, okay?"

Dylan nodded. Norman's head bobbed as he chuckled.

"No, no, not okay!" Alex yelled, finally raising his voice. "It's dark, Norma, you don't need to--"

"Look, I don't know what you're hiding, but I've seen enough of this thing to know that there's someone out there who needs our help, whether you believe it or not. And I'm not sitting around to argue."

Norma ran from the house. The wind's angry noises matched how she felt, and the cold, wet rain didn't make it any better.

After what felt like hours of stomping around in the woods, she finally came to an old dirt road that looked identical to one of the sketches in the book. Well, aside from the downed tree. She lumbered over it, feeling every inch of dirt that clogged the underside of her nails and made her feel like she hadn't showered in months.

She wiped her face, smearing mud all over her nose. After the log came a steep drop-off, which sat eye-to-eye to a fast mountain range.

It would be way more beautiful without the mud, she grouched.

She stood, overlooking the area below for a moment before turning from the edge and trodding outside the more heavily wooded landscape. Norma peered at it for a moment, using her hand to block the rain from her eyes.

Is that...marijuana?

And then she saw it. Near the expanse of marijuana there was a shed exactly like the one in the journal. She flipped a page. Stared at it for a second. You're going insane, she thought, It's probably just some stupid story. Still, she had to see.

The door creaked loudly, and Norma turned to risk a furtive glance behind her. If the journal was correct...

One look inside, and she had vomited on the ground beside the corpse.


	13. 13

*TRIGGER WARNING* 

Norma wiped the vomit from her lips.

The figure moved, and she fought the urge to run. The girl's eyes blinked rapidly. Her chest rose and fell, but it's movements were slow and painful-looking.

She looked dead, but she was, most definitely, alive.

"Hello, um-- I'm Norma...do you speak English? Can you tell me who trapped you here?"

The girl shot up from her spot, shaking. She grabbed Norma's shoulders tightly. "He come for me," she told her. 

"Who? Who's coming for you?"

"He come for me, he come for me!"

"Who, who's coming for you?!?" Norma found herself getting quickly frustrated and tense. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up; she was afraid that with all this racket, they might be found here by the wrong person.

She reached inside her coat pocket, hoping that her fingers would fold around her phone.

No such luck.

"Oh no."

She glanced back at the girl, who seemed to have taken stock of the situation, yet was getting louder by the minute. Upon closer inspection, she was chained to a pole that was planted firmly through the floor of the shack and into the ground. With every movement, the chains sliced through her wrists, and Norma fought the urge to gag.

"Listen to me. I'm going to get you out of here, and then we're going to get help," she said, searching for a way to unchain the captive. "My friend is the Sheriff--"

The door of the shack creaked behind them. The girl started to visibly shake again, and this time screamed. Tears threatened Norma's gaze when she saw the man at the door.

Keith.

She folded herself into the nearest corner, with no luck. "I can see you trying to hide, Norma Bates. What are you doing here?"

"You're a scumbag, Keith Summers."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you're a freaking dirtbag, Keith Summers!"

The Chinese girl seemed shocked that Norma talked that way to Keith, but he only laughed and stepped closer to the two. "You think you're so big and bad now that you're sleeping with the Sheriff, and you don't even have the balls to come out and face me."

Norma's brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Come on, then. Face me, you whore."

She stood. In her right hand was the flashlight she had used to trek through the woods.

"Go on, then. If I'm such a scumbag, why don't you bash my brains in with that stupid flashlight? You don't have the guts or the balls."

She launched herself at him, screaming, brandishing a flashlight that flickered dramatically against the dark backdrop. At first, she though she might actually get lucky. Be able to put a dent in this jerk's head. That is, until she felt a quick, sharp pain in her side.

He dropped her. Her head lulled to the side, her gaze averted to directly below her right breast. A syringe was sticking out of her. Fear engulfed her for a second, and her vision went black.

~ ~

"Alex, will you cut it out. I'm trying to get some sleep here," she groaned, rolling over. Alex was banging against the door, calling her name like he thought she might disappear. "Alex, please, I'm tryna--"

She blinked. Her vision was dancing, and for a second, she thought she was going to barf, right here in--

Right here in the--

Right here in the shack?!?

"I'm busting down the door."

It was quite literally the only warning he gave before he burst through the door, firearm in one hand, flashlight in the other.

Flashlight. She'd tried to hit Keith with a flashlight.

"Alex!" she called, crawling towards him in the dark. Once he realized that Keith wasn't there, he dropped the gun and cradled his love's head.

"I thought you were dead," he admitted, rocking with her. He pulled away for a moment, noticing the girl on the ground before them. "He was keeping her here."

Norma followed his gaze. A mix between a gasp and a sob escaped her mouth. There was a bullet hole in the Chinese girl's head.

"Alex--" she broke off, feeling lost. Realizing that, at any moment, Keith could've put that gun to her head.

"It's okay," he told her, although he had a terrible feeling that it would never really be okay.

"He hurt me, Alex."

He pulled away from her for a moment, but only to look at her broken face. Her deep, blue eyes were terrified and pleading and hurting all at the same time. "A long time ago, about a month, maybe two months after I'd lived here...he came into the motel room that I was cleaning.

I was just doing my job, like I always did. The boys were with Mr. Decody...I'm so thankful they didn't have to see it. He came in, and at first he just made small talk, like always. It wasn't unusual for him to be there, but this time, Joyce had left him alone with me. I don't think she knew. She's too good to know. If she knew, it would break her heart.

He came in and asked me how my day was going. I told him it was good. I should've known by his stance that something was up-- that smile of his was so charming, more so than usual, but when I look back, I should've been able to tell that he was hiding something behind his back. He ripped it out, and started threatening me. Talking about how he was taking what was rightfully his. I don't know if he meant me...I don't think he did. He was so angry and so violent-- and he just did it like it was nothing. Like there was no mind or soul inside of him, just body. He ripped my clothes off. Put tape over my mouth, I guess so no one could hear me scream.

He threatened my boys, Alex. And, to be honest, I'm really more worried about them than myself. Alex? Alex, where are the boys?"

"They're with Joyce."

Norma breathed a sigh of relief. "What about Keith?" she asked.

"Keith..." he directed his gaze to the door, then back to Norma. "Norma, I'm gonna take you back to the motel, let you get the boys from Joyce. Then, I'm going to drive you home. When you get there, I want you to lock all the doors. Keep the boys in the bathroom, near the first aid kit. You can sit in there with them or outside the door, but whatever you do, make sure you load the shotgun that's in my closet. You know how to do that?"

"Alex, I don't know what you're saying---"

"What I'm saying is that I want you to go home, board up, stay with the boys while I handle this, okay?"

"Alex--"

"Norma, I'm not arguing with you. I just need you to trust me."

She nodded. "Okay."

He kissed her forehead. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get this thing sorted out. Right now, though, we need to focus on getting home. You still got that flashlight?"

She looked around for the flashlight, and let out a wretched sob when she found it in the Chinese girl's hand.


	14. 14

Romero drove her home like he said he would. Dylan and Norman kept asking questions that Norma didn't know how to answer.

"We're gonna go home, and when we get there, I want you to get two blankets and two pillows. We're going to have a sleepover in Alex's room." Dylan gave her an odd look. Norman muttered something about a sleepover. Neither of them questioned it after that.

So Norma went home. Got Alex's shotgun. He showed her when it was on safety, and how to handle it without hurting anyone. He explained to her how it loaded, then guided her through the steps and watched with satisfaction as she completed them. "Listen to me. If Keith gets anywhere near you, threatens you, or comes at you with anything...shoot him in the chest. If you have to shoot him, keep the boys with you and wait until I come back. Don't touch the body. Understand?"

Norma gave a sullen nod.

"Okay." He lifted his hands towards her face and stroked her baby-soft skin. Her eyes were scared, but he swore that somewhere deep down there was a blazing fire inside her . She wouldn't let Keith Summers lay a finger on the boys, even if it meant having to deal with him herself.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. When he pulled away, she was crying, and he wiped away her tears. "What are you going to do?"

He sighed. "Whatever I have to."

He glanced behind her at Dylan, who was alert but confused. "Hey boy, I want you to stay near your mother and take care of her, alright? You stay near her unless she tells you otherwise, okay?"

Dylan nodded. "Okay."

"I love you, boy."

For the first time since they'd moved in, Dylan smiled.

~ ~

Alex feared that it was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

If all went well, he would find Keith at Joyce's house. He could arrest him there, using the evidence that was in the shack near the potfield. No one would question it.

If Keith was gone, then he'd have to find him. If he ran, Alex would follow. If he attacked, Alex would shoot.

Keith was his best friend.

All throughout school, Alex and Keith had been buddies. They'd known each other since the first grade, when Keith got them in "detention" for saying cuss words. The two had whispered to each other the entire time, repeating the words they had learned and laughing until they fell out of their chairs.

Keith had been okay, back then.

His father ran the motel, back when he was still alive. It had been in the family since his grandfather built it, and the Summers were determined to keep it under the family name. His father died when they were in fifth grade. It was around the same time when Alex's mother killed herself. The two spent may nights under the stars, talking about girls and death and the afterlife, and Alex admitted that he didn't believe that there was an afterlife. He said that he thought that when people died, they just died, turned into dust, and their bodies melted away under the dirt which they had been planted. Keith hated Alex for it. Said that he thought his father and grandfather were in Heaven, for all the good things they had done. They didn't speak to each other much after that.

Still, Keith had been his friend. And now, he'd have to arrest him.

He rang Joyce's doorbell.

"Hey Joyce, you seen Keith around?"

"Why, of course, he's just upstairs, I'm sure he wouldn't mind--" Alex pulled out his firearm, raising it to the shadowy figure which had now appeared behind Joyce. Keith was there, and he was holding a gun to his mother's head. "Keith, what are you doing--"

"Don't speak," he told his mother. "Walk outside. We need to talk to the Sheriff."

Joyce's fearful gaze was now directed at Alex. "Do as he says," he told her.

Joyce stepped outside carefully, and Alex backtracked down the stairs, never taking his aim from Keith.

"You need to turn around and walk away, Alex."

"I'm the one giving orders here, Keith. Let her go. Let her go now, and I won't charge you for putting a gun to your mother's head," the gun between his own hands was shaking as he spoke.

"You take me to jail, and I'll be there for the rest of my life. I know that slut told you what I did."

"That's not important now, Keith. What's important now is that you drop the gun, and we talk this out. You don't have to be in jail for the rest of your life. We're friends, remember? We don't lie to each other."

Keith opened his mouth to respond, yet the next words did not belong to him. "Hey!"

For the first time since he'd got there, Alex's gaze drifted from Keith to look back at his wife, who was standing to his left, wielding a shotgun. "Norma, get out of here!" he yelled, feeling dread and anger well in his chest.

"I'm not going anywhere, Alex. I'm not leaving you. Nobody's getting shot over me."

"Well, you little--" the point of Keith's gun was directed at Norma. He fired.

The thing clicked, and Keith gazed down at it with a mixture of confusion and worry. "Stupid thing jammed--" he hissed under his breath. Alex saw his opportunity. He dropped his firearm, running towards Keith with the cuffs in his hand. This was it. The moment Keith Summers, his oldest friend, would be locked behind bars forever.

Joyce intercepted him. Grabbed the gun. Alex hardly registered it in his mind it happened so quick.

Keith pulled away from his mother. His finger hit the trigger again. The gun gave a loud BANG! as the bullet exited the chamber, right into Joyce's throat.

Keith yelled. Joyce plummeted to the ground, gagging and wrasping for breath.

Her hands barely made it to her throat before she hit the ground. Keith was on her, eyeing the wound wildly. Norma followed suit, throwing down the shotgun to land at Joyce's side.

Her chest rose and fell for a few seconds. Norma didn't know if it was just her mind playing tricks, or if Keith was actually crying beside her. "Oh, Momma, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do this...." her eyes were already looking past him, up into the great blue sky that was shining above them.

It seemed a pitifully nice day for something like this to happen to someone like her.

Something inside him hated it, but Alex took the opportunity to place the handcuffs on Keith. Joyce's mouth was open, but her breathing was getting more and more shallow. Alex checked her pulse. Norma started to run to the house to call an ambulance, but the Sheriff shook his head. Norma's hand went to her face as she burst into tears.

Alex took Keith to his car. The man could barely form a sentence, but what he did say was a jumbled mess of "Mom" and "dead."

After securing Mr. Summers, Alex Romero called someone to pick up Joyce's body, but he didn't have the heart to pull his girlfriend away from the scene. Every time he looked over at her, she was convulsing, shedding tears for the woman who had paid for her living for so long.

Eventually, Norman came up behind his mother and tugged on her dress. Told her, "It's time to go home." If he had noticed the body, he decided not to say anything about it. Dylan hugged his mother, let her cry on his shoulder. His mind was swarming with so many thoughts, he didn't even know where to begin. What happened? Why was Mrs. Summers dead? Did Keith kill his own mother?

Alex took Norma home while he dealt with the situation. Upon arriving home late that night, he found Norma and Norman in his bed.


	15. 15

"MOTHER!"

Norma shot up from the bed and exploded across the hallway into her son's room.

"Norman, honey, what's wrong?!" she asked, wrapping her arms around him.

Tears were his only response.

Norma glanced over to the doorway to see that Alex was standing there, a tired expresssion on his face. She nearly started sobbing. "He keeps waking up like this, Alex. I don't know if I should take him to a doctor..."

"I think it'd be best to wait it out. If he's still like this by tomorrow, we'll take him to a child psychologist."

Her shoulders sagged. She kissed her son's forehead gently. "Come on, kiddo, you're alright--"

Dylan rolled over in his own bed and rubbed his eyes. "He can sleep with me if he needs to."

Norma smiled a little. "Hey, what do you think about that, Norman? You wanna have a sleepover with your brother?"

The little boy nodded. Norma helped him into Dylan's bed, which was almost too small for the two. She tucked them in and kissed them both goodnight before turning out the light. "Hey Mom," Dylan called.

"Yes, Dyl?"

"Can you leave the door open just a crack?"

"Of course."

She left the door cracked, then wandered towards the kitchen. Alex's brow furrowed. "What-- what are you doing?"

"I can't sleep, not after that. And besides, I've got some paperwork from the motel to go over. Someone's got to do it," she explained.

He shrugged, then began to walk away. "Let me know if you need me."

"Will do."

It was thirty after five. Perfect time for work.

She started up the coffee maker and got to the table, first sorting things as thoroughly as she knew how. The job went with such o that she almost turned a little music on, except for the fear that she might keep Alex and the boys awake.

Going through files, one after another. Throwing away what was trash, shredding a few things, and pondering the more important files to try and understand the legality of it all. So far, nothing she found said anything about what would happen to the motel after it stopped being a crime scene.

Keith was in jail for murder and involuntary manslaughter. No death penalty, but he would be behind bars for the rest of his life for the Chinese girl they found in the shed. The rest "had not the sufficient evidence to be proven."

It ate Norma up, but she knew she couldn't let it bog her down for the rest of her life. Besides, she'd already spent plenty of restless nights crying over what Caleb did to her. She didn't want Alex to see her break again, and for the moment, there were more important matters to be handled.

Keith would have to wait.

At first, she hadn't realized what got it all stirred up again. Most of these papers were mundane and had nothing to do with Keith. Then, she considered the contract before her. She immediately recognized Joyce's signature, but this paper was quite a bit different from the others.

She lowered the paper. Sat it back down on the table. Should I...

The bathroom door creaked, breaking her train of thought. "Hey, Norma, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

She glanced at the clock. Six thiry. Time for the man of the house to start getting ready for work. "I need to start breakfast," she blurted, rushing to the stove in a hurry.

"Hey, don't worry about it today, I'll get something out," he said, sauntering closer towards her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, pulling a frying pan out from under the cabinet. "I can have it ready by the time you're out of the shower--"

"Don't rush yourself," he stood closer to her. Lifted her chin. She giggled like a schoolgirl as he kissed it, then pulled away to get the eggs. "Really, though, there's something we need to talk about."

"Go on."

"Look, Norma," he paused, watching as she cracked the egg directly into the frying pan. "You staying with me...us living together like this-- isn't really good for my public image."

"Oh?" she asked. The egg sizzled in it's pan.

"Yeah, you know, with the fact that we're not married..."

"Well, you shouldn't have to worry about that anymore," she said, trodding over to the table to pick up the contract she had just recently viewed. "Because according to this, I now own the Seafairer Motel."

His eyes were as round as saucers. "What?"

"If this is real, then I own the Seafairer. Joyce...it says that if anything happened to her or Keith...that the Motel would be in my name." She turned away from him, holding the paper up to the light as if to examine it's authenticity.

When the turned back around to confront him, he was knelt on one knee.

"Norma Bates, would you marry me?" the words came out as a near mumble, yet Norma understood them clearly. She had heard these words twice before, but never before had she actually believed she could say "yes" without hesitation.

And then it happened. She remembered why she married John. The torment that Caleb put her through. How she cheated on John, because she didn't really love him. Left him for Sam, who ended up being a stupid, drunk jerk. She had upended her own life and the life of her sons, all because of lies.

She couldn't ruin this man's life. She wouldn't. "I'm sorry, Alex. It-- it's not you, I promise it's not you--"

"Then what?"

"You're perfect-- and I'm not."

"Norma, that's not true."

"You don't know anything about me!"

He paused. She was right. It had been almost four years, and he only knew that she was a woman who'd left her husband to save her children. That she suffered at the hands of the man who he thought was his best friend. And he hadn't seen all of that. He had to have faith that she was telling the truth, and wasn't lying to his face.

"I don't care."


	16. 16

Will Decody picked up the phone for what felt like the millionth time that week.

It rang on the other end. And rang. And rang. And rang. He swore under his breath, grateful that Emma wasn't around to hear him. Eventually, someone on the other end picked up. His breath hitched in his throat. "Audra, is that--"

He was cut off by an angry woman exclaiming that she was not Audra. He started to apologize, yet she kept yowling in his ear, no matter how profuse he was. "Yes, Ma'am, sorry for the mixup." He hung up. In his hand was a piece of paper on which two phone numbers were scrawled. He decided it was finally time to try the last one.

"Hello, this is Will Decody. Yes, I'm sure I've called here before. I'm looking for Audra Decody, is she there?"

The tennant informed him that there was no one under the name of Audra on their list. He sighed. "Thanks anyways."

He hung up.

Emma started coughing again, and he made his way to her room quietly. "Hey, Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad," she told him, glaring at him over her book. "I was fine the last two times you checked."

"I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this."

She sat the book down. "Have you talked to Mom?"

He scratched the back of his neck, trying to appropriate his words. "She...hasn't answered. I'm sorry, Em. I know she loves you, she's just--"

"She's got a funny way of showing it."

He stood there, in momentary silence, watching his daughter. After he was satisfied that she was okay, he walked away.

He began cursing Audra mentally. How dare she walk out on their daughter, when she needed both of her parents the most? Not only would it be mentally and physically supportive of her, but financially as well. He was lucky that the hospitals were letting him make the payments he was making. The doctors were lucky to have found a treatment for his daughter, even if it was only temporary.

Her new confines aggravated her, that much he could tell. She was only seven, after all, and would hardly be able to do some of the things her peers so loved to do during the summer. She would always be stuck here, reading her book.

He considered their lack of weekend plans for a moment, then smiled a little. Perhaps he could do something to cheer up that long face.

"Emma, you remember Norman, don't you?"

"Yeah," she called. "We have the same classes."

"He's having a birthday party tomorrow, and I think it would be nice if we both went. How about that? I'm sure they'll have ice cream and cake."

He could imagine her pulling the book away from her face in excitement. "You mean it? You think I'll be okay to go?"

"I don't see why not."

He glanced from his work to look back at her. She had a wild grin on her face, and was barely keeping her nose in the book. "We'll need to get him something for his birthday."

"We can go this evening, if you'd like."

"I'll go get ready," she said, throwing the blankets from her legs.

~ ~

"Dylan, Norman, breakfast is ready!"

Norman was the first to thunder downstairs. "Morning, Mother."

"Good morning, Honey. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Well..." he paused. "I have to present my project to the class today, and I'm a little worried," he stared down at the floor.

She smiled. "I'm sure you'll do fine. You're a nice boy, people seem to like you. Just-- make sure you speak up, so the whole class can hear you." She got louder with every word, as if that would be the best example for him.

Alex trodded downstairs. "Norma,"

She glanced over at him. "Alex?"

"The sink's ran over again."

"I thought you fixed it yesterday?" she questioned, her face falling as she scooped eggs onto their plates.

"I thought I did too, but...it's worse. The bathroom floor was a mess."

She sighed. "I'll see if I can pay someone to fix it today." Her expression changed to confusion as she directed her gaze to the stairs. "DYLAN! Time FOR breakfast!"

"He's reading some magazine."

"What magazine?"

"Something one of the other boys in class found. He seems really interested in it."

"Alex, can you go--?"

"Yeah."

There was a commotion upstairs, and a few minutes later Detective Romero appeared, waving around the magazine in question.

"Get that thing out of here. DYLAN, if you don't COME DOWNSTAIRS!"

"I'm COMING!"

Alex took his place at the table. Dylan stomped downstairs.

"Where did you get that thing?!" Norma asked.

"What thing?"

"She means the magazine," Norman interjected.

"Brody let me borrow it."

"Brody? I don't think I want you hanging out with Brody anymore."

Before Dylan could answer, a horn was blaring outside.

"You'd better go, before you miss the bus!" Norma told them, passing Norman his backpack. She kissed him on the forehead. "Good luck with your project."

"Goodbye, Mother!"

"I'll pick you up at three, okay?" She waved to both of them as they got on the bus, then ran inside, shivering from the cold.

"I gotta go," Alex said, standing from the table. He dotted her head with kisses, then her cheeks, and continued until he got to her lips.

She pulled away from him moments later. "Do you want me to bring you lunch today?"

"Ah, actually, I think I'll be having lunch with Brody's father, if you know what I mean..."

Norma rolled her eyes. "Well, I'll be down at the Motel until you get back," she kissed him again, then watched as he left.

She was left alone with a wandering mind.

Norma walked down the steps of their house and towards the motel. She was reminded once again of Joyce's blood on the rocks, and she squinted, wishing the memory would fade from her mind like the blood had faded from those rocks.


	17. 17

Mr. Decody was nearly to the Bates' house when he started noticing the cars.

There were a number of police cars at one end of the street, which were surrounding a fire truck and and two ambulances. Emma peered over the passenger seat in an attempt to see who they were loading into the first ambulance, with no such luck.

Will turned around and made his way to the other end of the street. Upon closer inspection, Sheriff Romero was directing traffic and giving orders to the people on the scene, where a driver was standing near his schoolbus, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. There was already police tape surrounding the area. Dylan and Norma could barely be seen in the second ambulance. Norma was crying.

~ ~

It all started when Norma promised to meet her son at the bus stop.

It was Norman's eighth birthday. His mother was so busy preparing for his party that she couldn't pick him up from school, yet she promised to meet him at the bus stop to make up for it.

The bus stopped just short of the bench Norma was sitting on. The red STOP sign flipped out. Norma watched the doors open and waited for her sons to appear. She could hear an engine revving in the distance and wondered what all the commotion was about. Her gaze drifted back to the bus windows, where she could see a few kids moving to let her sons through.

The engine grew louder as it approached. The hair on Norma's neck began to raise as she realized it wasn't slowing down. The gray car sped on then swerved, barely missing the edge of the bus, passing into the lane where kids were getting off. 

Norman was out in front of Dylan. His eyes grew wide as the car sped towards them both, zig-zagging as it went.

Norma's breath hitched in her throat. Dylan saw what was coming and threw himself against the side of the bus, his expression wild as he called out to his brother.

Norman froze.

"NORMAN, LOOKOUT!"

Norma was hardly aware of what happened as she launched herself from the bench, tackling her son to the side. Her ears barely registered the sound of his head hitting the pavement before her ankle gave a sickening snap.

A loud crash signified the end of the car's deathly drive. Norma cradled her son, only lifting her head when the ringing in her ears stopped. "Ma'am, are you alright?" she glanced up, her blurry vision giving hardly any clue to the features of the man who spoke. The bus driver, her mind told her.

She sighed, hardly knowing what to say. Norman clung like a bat to his mother. The spot where his head hit the pavement was bleeding a little. "Norman, honey, speak to me."

"Mom?" he looked up at her, his blue eyes startled.

She started to cry. "It's okay, baby, I'm here. Are you alright, do you feel okay?"

"My head hurts a little," he said, reaching for the back of his head. When he look his hand away, his fingers were spotted with blood. "I'm bleeding."

Norma glanced up at the bus driver again. "He's bleeding-- and there's something wrong with my ankle," she reached down as if to touch it, then decided against it.

The bus driver picked up Norma and laid her on one of the seats. Dylan helped Norman sit next to her as they pulled off the road. The driver called 911. Norma reached into her blouse, pulling out her crushed phone. "Hello, Alex...there's been an accident."

~ ~

"Somebody came through and crashed into the bus stop. It-- it was really close, but everyone's alive. Norma's got a broken ankle."

"Was the guy drunk?"

"He...he seemed to be having an accident of his own."

Will shook his head. "I'll follow Norma to the hospital, if you'd like."

"That would be great, Will. Thanks."

Will turned around again. Emma was as silent as ever.

They arrived right behind the ambulance, and followed Norma through the emergency entrance. Her eyes were as round as saucers. "Mr. Decody? What are you doing here? Is everything okay with Emma?" she asked, eyeing the little girl.

Will fought down a chuckle. "She's fine, Mrs. Romero. I was on the way to Norman's party and saw the accident..." he paused. "Well...what's left of it, anyway. I asked Alex if he wanted me to follow you in, and he thought you'd like the company."

Her cheeks were rosy red, and he was afraid that she might cry again. "Thank you, Will," her gaze drifted to Emma. "Hello, honey, are you doing okay?"

Emma smiled. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Norma chuckled in response.

~ ~

The gash on Norman's head was bandaged promptly. The doctor's told Norma that a concussion was not out of the realm of possibility, and to keep a close eye on him during the next day or two.

Norma's examination took about an hour. It was determined that one of her fibula had busted into multiple fragments, which most certainly required surgery. They scheduled the surgery for later that day, with the young woman's consent. Norma agreed with the knowledge that Will would take care of everything, and promised to pay him for his troubles.

Two hours later, and Norma was preparing to go into surgery. Alex followed her back until he couldn't anymore. "Don't worry about me," she told him. "I'll be fine. Take care of Will and the boys while I'm out, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"I love you. I'll see you in a few hours."

He kissed her hand. "To a few hours," then let her go.

Being put to sleep startled Norma, yet she tried not to think about it. She remembered reading somewhere that lions tended to nap up to twenty hours a day, so she tried imagining that the procedure was just one long nap. Her arms burned as the anesthesia kicked in, and with that last fleeting thought, her vision went black.


	18. 18

The world around him was black as night. Water seeped through his shoes and made his socks soggy, and he sighed.

He rubbed his head, feeling the soft bandage that was put there. He shivered, wondering why everything was so dark.

Then something appeared in front of him, and he jerked reflexively. Stone stairs cascaded up to the house where he, and Dylan, and Momma, and Alex lived. The place sat archaically against the horizon, nearly blocking the setting sun behind it.

He looked up. The sky above him was blue as could be. His gaze drifted to the motel, and what he saw chilled him to the bone.

Mother was there, holding Alex's shotgun in her hand. Aiming it at Joyce Summers, the woman that had babysat him and his brother for as long as he could remember. "Mother!?"

To her left was Keith, and to her right was Alex. None of them seemed to hear Norman's call, so he decided, despite the hair raising on his neck, that he would go down there to see what would happen.

He had dreamed about this day before, but it always seemed as though he would fall from the sky the way he looked down on them.

As he got closer, the scene became clearer. Another thing that was odd to him, as, in times before, this dream was always really blurred or fuzzy. When he watched it play out before him, he suddenly wished it was still that way.

Mother was still aiming the shotgun at Joyce. Her lips moved, but the voice was soundless and uncanny. The shot fired.

The bullet penetrated Joyce's throat, and blood splattered across Mother's blue and white dress. He cried out, but no one seemed to hear him. He tried to run towards her, to keep her from what she was doing, but his feet were as heavy as if he was trying to run through water. "Mother!? What are you doing!? She's your friend!" still, it appeared as though she didn't hear him. He struggled to try to walk again, before he watched his her small hands latch themselves to Joyce's throat.

The little boy began to cry. She wasn't a terrible person, was she? She didn't kill Joyce...did she?

His ears rang with the words she had whispered to Alex the night after, "If I hadn't have showed up with that gun...if I had just listened to you....I killed Joyce." He never managed to hear the rest, but screamed at the scene before him. Mother's hands were becoming increasingly stained with blood the harder she squeezed. He watched it seep up through her fingers and pour thickly over her hands as Joyce sputtered on the ground below her.

"STOP!"

She glanced in his direction with a seductive smile, then pulled her hands away from Joyce's throat. The woman had finally stopped breathing. Her lips were blue, but her throat was red.

He closed his eyes tight. It was like a terrifying flash when he opened them, and she was still standing there, smiling pleasurably at him. His eyes ran over her body...her hair was curled and a little shorter than usual...her lips, coated with lipstick as red as...her dress, the blue-and-white floral that she wore, the one he thought was so beautiful...covered in that thick, red liquid that had come from the body of Joyce Summers. That was Joyce's blood. Joyce had been their friend. Now she was dead.

Her hands wrapped around his throat with such force that his head hit the black wall. He cried out and reached for the bandage, but instead found a pool of blood when he pulled away. "Mother!"

She got closer to him. Whispered in his ear, "You nasty little eavesdropper. You were supposed to be in bed. Weren't supposed to hear that, were you?" She pulled away, glaring daggers through his being. "I don't want to do this, Norman, but I don't really have any choice now, do I?"

"Mother, please, don't--" his plea was cut off. Her fingers laced around his neck.

~

~

~

~

Norman's chest rose and fell rapidly as he gasped for breath. His blue eyes spun wildly around the room. It was vacant, excluding himself. He shot up from the bed. Ran to the bathroom. Someone called from downstairs, yet he could vagely make out what they were saying.

He was met with tousled, brunette hair, bulging blue eyes, and his own lanky, teenaged figure. Things had changed since he last had that dream.

When he got back to his room, he glanced at the calander. Twelve years today. A lot had changed.

"Norman, are you coming?" His brother's voice permeated the seemingly-thick air.

"Yeah," he called out. His voice was raspy. Norman cleared his throat, then spoke again, "Yeah, I'm coming," he said, cursing himself. If he didn't leave now, then his mother would have to give him a ride to school, and he really wasn't in the mood for that.

He used the bathroom and changed clothes in a few minutes, then trodded downstairs to see that his mother was cooking breakfast.

Her blue eyes sparkled as a gleeful smile spread across her face. "Hey, Honey, are you gonna have some eggs or something--"

"No thanks, I gotta go, you know, don't want to be late--"

"I can drop you off at school if you're not ready."

He shook his head, smiling with embarrassment. "It's fine, Mom, really, I'd better go with Dylan."

He was ashamed for a moment, when, upon hearing his rejection, his mother seemed slightly crestfallen. She stood there, in the kitchen, holding a plate of bacon and eggs that had so far gone untouched.

"Well...I guess I'll take some bacon with me," he said, waving a hand as he spoke.

Her eyes got a little brighter. "Okay," she limped over to the cabinet, retrieved some tin foil, and started to wrap the bacon as quickly as she could manage. "There you go." She kissed him on the cheek. "Bye-bye, Honey, I'll see you later!"

The two said their goodbyes, and Norman gave a sigh as he sat in the front of Dylan's truck, finally leaving that old, bloodstained house.


	19. 19

That year had been almost perfect for Norma's little family.

"Norman--Norman!"

Alex woke with a start, blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes. He looked over at Norma, who was shifting around beside him, clearly dreaming.

"Norma...Norma, wake up!"

Norma's eyes opened. Her breathing slowed. Her arms relaxed. "Alex...please tell me he's okay," he could see by her glistening blue eyes that she was holding back a torrent of tears.

He wrapped his arms around her ever so gently. "He's fine, Norma. He's across the hall, asleep."

"I have to go check on him," she moaned, throwing off the sheets.

He watched her go without complaint, although his eyes wandered to her scarred foot.

He had wished it to be the only harm that would've come from such a situation, yet he knew it would never be that simple.

This was their routine nearly every other night. Norma would wake up in a fit, insisting that she go check on her sixteen-year-old son. Although her body had seemed to adjust to the accident, her mind was ever slower and constantly convinced her that he was dead.

He decided to follow her.

Alex found her in the exact same place as always: standing at the threshold of Norman's door with a warm, satisfied smile.

She stood that way for at least a minute before her hand went to her mouth.

Norma swerved past him, running into the bathroom and vomiting the contents of her stomach.

He came in behind her, speaking in a soft tone. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, teasing with a bit of a smile on his face. He wasn't even sure what made him entertain the idea.

She lifted her head, glaring daggers at him. "No. That shop is closed, Mister. There is nothing brewing in here," she said, gripping the toilet as she spoke.

"You sure about that?"

"Alex."

"Sorry."

Norma gave him a forceful hug. "Must just be a bug going around," she said, pulling away from him.

"Yeah. I suppose so," he agreed, before sweeping her off her feet. For the first time in a long time, he heard her laugh. It was a pure laugh, a real laugh. And he laughed, too.

He took her to bed. Laid her down, and replayed that beautiful, contagious laugh in his mind. He'd swore he'd never heard anything like it. Maybe, just maybe, they could be happy. Her sons could be happy again. Maybe, it could be perfect.

~ ~

She froze, watching the scene play before her again. The spray of bullets. The expression on Keith's face as Alex loaded him into his vehicle. Alex's own stony expression as he arrested Summers.

She glanced down at her own bloodied hands, feeling her stomach twist. Why didn't Alex arrest her, instead?

~ ~

Norma was still vomiting.

"Hey, Hon, you--" Alex stopped short of the bathroom door. He glared at his watch. She'd been like this since midnight. "Norma, you can't keep going on like this. I think...I think we need to get you to a doctor." He watched as he wiped the vomit from her lips.

"Okay."

Dylan declined a ride to work. Norman caught a ride with them to school. He glared at his mother through the rear-view mirror, yet neither of them noticed.

"What's all this?" Norma had remarked, upon seeing yellow and orange signs so close to the motel.

Alex sighed. "The bypass."

Norma's eyes widened. "I thought-- I thought they cancelled it..."

"It's coming. Probably going to slow down the business," he mumbled under his breath.

He snuck a glance at her. Although they had been laughing the night before, there was no more laughter in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, placing his hand in her lap as he drove.

She took it. Tears began to fall from her porcelain cheeks.

He swore silently at himself, knowing that he shouldn't have said anything, although he knew she'd see it eventually. "I don't want you to worry. I want you to feel safe, and to feel loved, and to be able to take care of your boys..." he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

His wife sat in silent contemplation for a moment, then turned to him with her poor, puffy-red eyes and trembling lips. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and gulped. A faint smile spread from one cheek to the other. "I've always felt safer with you around," she told him, echoing the words she used before he first asked her to stay with him. She gave a little chuckle. "I love you. I do. And the boys...you've been more to them than I could ever be. I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise."

In that moment, she so wished that she could lay her head on his chest. He smiled. "You know, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? To get out of this rotten, dirty little town? I know you love that motel, and the kids have friends here, but wouldn't it just be good...to start over?"

"Uh...Alex...do you see that?"

There, in the center of White Pine Bay, was a body hanging, set alight and blazing where everyone could see.

Alex parked the car. There were fifty people or so surrounding the scene, yet somehow, nobody had called it in.

"You stay here," he told Norma. "Whatever you do, don't get out of the car. I'll be right back."

~ ~

Dylan sat in a lawn chair overlooking the field of marijuana that stood before him.

It was becoming ever tempting to smoke a joint, yet everytime the thought crossed his mind, he remembered Gunner and was disgusted.

He was a good kid, but boy was that stuff starting to rot his brain.

The more he was around it, the more he started to despise the job, but it paid too well to quit now. And it was worth it, if he was ever going to get that house.

It wasn't like he hated staying with Norma and Alex. However, given his influences in the past few years, he was starting to observe his mother's ever-growing issues.

She denied them, of course. Always had.

The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't figure out his mother. He knew she couldn't help the way she was, yet it was frustrating to watch her drive herself to the brim and then lash out at others when things didn't go her way. Heck, she'd even given Alex a run for his money a few times.

The young man stood, calling out to one of his partners. He had another job to attend to. One that didn't quite involve that intoxicating, green plant that was ever so tempting.


	20. 20

"Norman, who are you talking to?"

His blank countenance fell. He blinked, staring at Emma for a moment. "What?"

"You were talking to someone," she told him, pushing back a lock of her long, brunette hair. "Who were you talking to?"

He smiled. "Oh, you know, it's nothing. I just-- talk to myself sometimes."

Emma knew he was lying, but decided to go along with it. The expression on his face was as humble as could be; it was hard to believe what she had seen a few minutes prior.

He had been in an intense conversation with someone, although it seemed that no one was really there. A few passersby glanced at him like he had gone insane, while Emma just stood there, wondering what to do. Norman was talking in what he must've thought was a low whisper, waving his hands as he spoke. "I don't understand it! You have no reason to be here," he paused, as if someone interrupted him. "You should be in jail, that's where you should be. The only reason you didn't is because of the Sheriff--" and he stopped himself short, there, as Emma really did interrupt him.

They walked to class. Norman was sitting at the third row down, beside Emma and in front of Bradley.

The blonde-haired, brown-eyed, bombshell of a girl bore holes into the back of Norman's head, until he finally turned around to smile at her.

Emma forced herself to pay attention to the teacher, just so she wouldn't go insane. If she had seen the way he was earlier, she thought, she wouldn't be so eager to get into bed with him.

She scolded herself, knowing that she shouldn't have been thinking such things. Norman was clearly having some personal issues, whether his family knew about it or not. A part of her considered going to talk with Norma or Alex, although it would be hard catching them alone, and she would feel horrible if Norman's business got out to the rest of the town.

Her thoughts were cut off when she watched Bradley pass a note to Norman, right under the teacher's radar.

Emma huffed.

"Is everything alright, Ms. Decody?"

Every eye was on her as Mr. Montgomery spoke.

"Uh..." her eyes darted nervously from the paper in Norman's hand, then back to the teacher, considering whether or not she should say something.

Before she could really make a decision, Mongomery noticed, and snatched the note from Norman's hand quite suddenly.

Someone at the back of the class laughed.

"Party at my house. Seven o'clock," he paused. "Bradley." His gaze drifted to a fidgety Bradley Martin. "To the principal's office, both of you."

Norman shot an incredulous glance at Emma, who was just as surprised at Montgomery's sudden observance.

"Thank you, Emma, for bringing this note to my attention."

The young brunette squeezed her eyes shut.

Lunch was going to be miserable.

~ ~

"Are you crazy? You got me sent to the principle's office. They're all probably sitting at home right now, wondering where I am!"

"You know what? I'm tired of your crap, Norman. I've been following you around, hoping you'll notice me, trying to keep you out of trouble, and you're yelling at me," she paused, wiping her eyes. "We've been friends for years, Norman. I don't know..."

He suddenly felt incredibly guilty, yet he pushed the feeling away. "I didn't ask for you to follow me around," he replied coldly, before walking home alone.

~ ~

"Oh, goodness, Norman, where have you been?" his mother asked. She was sitting at the bus stop, in near-darkness, worrying herself over him.

"I was...hanging out with Emma," he told her, sitting comfortably beside her.

Norma glanced up at her taller son, and brought her hand through his hair. "You and Emma are still good friends, huh?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"I'm glad. She's a sweet person, Norman. Really sweet. You should bring her around more often," she said, leaning closer to her son.

"I'll invite her to dinner sometime."

Norma's smile faded.

He pulled away from her, gazing into frightened, blue eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious. Just-- I have something important to tell Alex, and...I'm not sure how he's going to feel about it."

"How bad could it be?"

"Oh, it's not bad, Norman. A little scary, but not bad. It's just, in the past, this hasn't really gone how I'd hoped."

"Are-- are you sick?" he asked, speaking past the frog in his throat. In spite of all the dreams, he still hated the idea of his mother leaving them behind. He got a little misty-eyed, until Norma replied.

She chuckled. "No, Norman. I'm not dying. I'm pregnant."

He twisted away from her, knowing that the surprise must've been showing on his normally-somber face.

"It's alright, Norman. You're not going to hurt me," she told him, taking his hand.

"Why don't you want to tell Alex?"

She shivered. "Norman, you know Alex-- isn't your father...biologically," she paused.

He stiffened. "You told me that my father was dead."

"He is," she assured him, although her voice lacked its usual confidence. "When I told him that I was pregnant with you, he just-- stared at me, and shrugged, and said, 'Okay.'"

"That was it?"

"That was it. I mean, I wasn't expecting any grand party or anything, but I thought he would've been a little more..."

"Excited?"

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, gazing at the stars above them. Norma sighed. Norman placed his arm around her, drawing her close. She laid her head on his chest, and her tired eyes started to close.

"It doesn't matter what Alex thinks. If he's not excited, well-- I am. I think it's great."

Her eyes were brighter as a smile formed from one cheek to the other. "Thank you, Norman."

"I love you, Mother."

"I love you, too, Norman."

They sat there until the moon was high in the sky, it's round beam of light glowing ominously above them. Norman was surprised that his mother would fall asleep in such an uncomfortable spot, yet instead of waking her himself, he decided to carry her inside.

He lifted her weight, holding her carefully against him. They passed under the Motel sign, the light falling over her limply-hanging body. Her face was tinted with a dreadful blue color that made her look dangerously lifeless, and Norman entertained a terrible thought.

He pushed it away, saving it for a more appropriate time.


	21. 21

"Hey, it's alright. It's not like anyone's spying on us."

Norma rapped the door with a closed fist. "Norman, breakfast is ready!"

"Okay, Mother!" Upon hearing her leave, he turned to the empty space beside him, whispering. "You have to hide until my mother goes down to the motel-- the closet. She won't see you there," he then threw the his sheets off, letting them drop to the floor. He walked over to the closet, opened the sliding panel of a door, and closed it, satisfied. "I'll come and get you after she leaves."

"NORMAN!"

"I'm coming!" he nearly tripped over an upturned board on his way to the door.

He went downstairs, not at all surprised to be the first one at the table. "Did you tell Alex yet?" he asked.

Norman turned to him with the hot frying pan in her hand. She scooped eggs onto his plate. "I haven't told him," she admitted.

"Well, what are you waiting for? If he really loves you, the news won't bother him at all."

"I just-- he's been busy lately, and I don't want to drop it on him out of nowhere. You know how serious he is about his work."

"Well, I think you should tell him--"

"Tell 'him' what?" Neither of them heard Dylan's silent footsteps.

Norma smiled. "Oh, it's nothing, just...something broke in the motel and I've been waiting to have Alex fix it."

"I can fix it. What is it?"

"Well, I--"

"You're lying to me, aren't you?"

Norma stood there, with a frying pan in one had and a spatula in the other, silently watching her oldest son.

He cursed. "I wish you'd quit lying to me, Norma!" he yelled, shoving the chair back under the table, "This is crap. If you can tell Norman, you can tell me. Come on, tell me."

"Dylan--"

"Tell me!"

Norman grabbed his brother by the shoulders, slamming him up against the wall. Norma cried out, shocked by his sudden outburst. "She doesn't have to tell you anything," he said, holding his face directly in front of Dylan's. At first, the older man looked angry, then, his expression faded as he noticed the distant mist of Norman's eyes.

"Norman, let him go," Norma called. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes wide. Norman looked ready to strangle his brother to death.

Dylan felt Norman's grip loosen. At first, he thought the younger man had calmed down, until he realized that his eyes were rolling back in his head. He stood there, wide-eyed, watching as Norma caught her youngest son in her arms. She cried for him to help her move Norman out to the car. "I can't carry him," she told him.

He could feel the sweat trickling from his darker, sandy-colored hair as he lifted his lanky brother and carried him out to the car. Norma insisted on following, and Dylan knew he wouldn't be able to argue. She got in the back, holding Norman's head in her lap. He watched as she cradled his head, running a hand through his hair. If she noticed him watching, then she didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said, about half-ways through their ride. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you, I really just-- wanted to wait until Alex knew."

A fresh wave of dread filled his chest. "Is something wrong?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know, your brother asked the same thing..."

"Norma!"

"I'm pregnant."

Dylan was startlingly quiet.

"Well. Are you going to say something, anything?"

"That's what you didn't want to tell Alex? Mom, this is great for you two...why would you--"

"It's not that I didn't want to tell him. I just...I'm worried, that's all. I've never had an annoucement like this go well, in case you're wondering."

Dylan brought his hand over his face, laughing as he pulled into a parking space. "Yeah, and Alex isn't a jerk like your other husbands were."

She bit back a haughty remark, ignoring her son's laughter and following him into the emergency room.

~ ~

Alex pulled into the drive, puzzling over why his wife wasn't at the motel, and why it's sign wasn't lit. He quickly came to the conclusion that something must've been wrong when he saw that only one car was sitting in the motel's parking lot.

He stomped up to the old Chevy, then knocked on the man's window. A gust of familiarity hit him, and he stepped back, away from the pistol that was pointed at his face. "Take me into the house, or I'll blow your brains out."

"Listen to me--"

"No. No, that's not how this works, see, I'm the one with the gun," he waved the weapon around mockingly. "I'll be the one in charge here, if you want yourself and your family to live..."

Alex's hand drifted down to his sidearm.

"Don't you dare think about pulling out that thing. I'll drop you before you can blink, and your pretty wife, too."

"What is it that you want?" he asked, trying hard to ignore the man's less-than-casual threats.

"I want the money, and I believe you might know exactly where it is..."

~ ~

Emma stopped herself short of the motel's gravelly lot.

If I do this, it would be just as admitting I were wrong, she sighed. After all, he's the one that should be apologizing to me. She stifled those thoughts, knowing that Norman wasn't completely in the wrong. After all, why should she expect him to suddenly think of her like a girlfriend, when they had been friends for so long?

"Come on, feet," she said, gathering her bearings to get out of the car. She paused. Stared through the glass windsheild and out towards the gargantuan, old house. It's stained-white door was hanging ajar, moving with the wind every now-and-then. Emma thought it odd, yet she had no idea that, in such a welcoming home as the Romeros lived in, something could be going terribly wrong.


	22. 22

Dylan stood outside watching visitors come and go.

He felt a little guilty about leaving Norma alone with Norman and the doctors. She's on the verge of being a mess, he predicted silently.

He watched as a single ambulance drove out of it's spot and towards the main road. It turned the same way they had come upon driving Norman here. He shrugged it off. Alex was at work, and they were here. It couldn't have been for the motel.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he almost didn't feel it. He pulled it out, staring at it with an air of confusion.

"Hello? Emma?"

She was speaking faster than he ever imagined she could, and he had to stop her, to slow her down. "Hey, slow down, alright, start from the beginning and tell me what happened," her voice was raspy and thick; she was fighting back tears now, trying to be strong, and he felt a wave of pity overcome him. "Okay. Alright. I'm on my way. If Norma calls you, tell her you're just watching the motel for her. I don't want to her know that anything's wrong...I'll explain later."

He walked back into the hospital.

Norman was lying in the hospital bed, staring up at the television, on which a black-and-white film was playing. Norma sat at his side, looking both concerned and relieved that her youngest son was awake. Both of them glanced his way, watching him walk inside.

"Hey, Norma, there's-- Emma just called. She's at the motel and she needs my help with something. Are you gonna be okay here?"

"Is everything alright?"

"It can't be too serious, she seemed okay over the phone."

Norma nodded. "We'll be okay." She placed her hand over Norman's, and he took it, grasping it gently.

Dylan took off.

~ ~

They were loading Romero into the ambulance when he pulled into the motel. One of the workers stopped to speak to him. "She says you're his son?" he asked, indicating that Emma was still there.

"Yeah."

"If you want to ride in the back, you'd better hurry on."

He nodded, then got out quickly, in the hopes of talking to Emma. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Are you gonna be okay to drive?"

"Yeah."

He watched her leave as he got on the ambulance, wondering what in the world could've happened to Romero. The older man was unconscious, and his breathing dangerously shallow. He was still in uniform. His usually stoic face was battered with cuts; there was a laceration above his left eye. His nose looked painfully crooked. Dylan imagined that he probably took a few punches to the face, just based on the way his lower lip was split in two.

The real kicker was his right eye. The EMTs had patched it up with a thick wad of gauze, yet it was apparent that there was still slight swelling underneath.

Dylan decided it would be best to talk to Norma as soon as he got back to the hospital, to let her know what had happened. Problem was, all he could tell her was that Emma found Alex. Someone had obviously been after him for something. In that case, there was no way they could go home.

He did his best to stay out of the way, filling in as much information as he could for the doctors and nurses. Eventually Emma joined him. She was red in the face when she came in, and gasping for breath.

"You alright?"

She huffed. "Yeah, I'll be okay. It's just-- all the excitement--"

"Thank you for watching out for Alex. I'm sorry I wasn't there to really help," he told her.

She smiled a little, "I just did what anyone else would've done."

He guided her towards Norman's room.

"Are you doing to tell Norma?"

His gaze drifted to the floor in a forlorn fashion. "I guess I have to. I just...don't want to freak her out, you know. I mean..." he fumbled a little, and Emma knew there was something he was hiding.

"Is everything okay...with Norma?"

"She's fine, it's Norman we were here for."

"What's wrong with Norman?" she asked, stopping at the door.

Dylan scratched the back of his neck. "He had a spell and passed out in the kitchen this morning. He seems fine now, but...with everything going on, Norma's practically fretting over him. And...well, she's pregnant, so--"

"You don't want to stress her out. I get it," she paused. Her cheeks were red again, but not out of exhaustion. They met each other's gaze for a moment, and Dylan seemed to smile, before her voice broke the tension, "We'll tell her together. We've got this, right?"

He nodded. "Here goes, I guess."

She took his hand as they walked into the room.

Norma's gloomy expression brightened immediately upon seeing Emma. "Emma, hello, how're you doing?" she asked, thinking that this was just a casual visit.

"I'm fine, Norma. Uh...it's just--"

"I have something to tell you, Norma, but I don't want you to freak out," Dylan started. His gaze swarmed wildly from Norma to the empty bed. He opened his mouth to ask where Norman went, if only to change the subject, yet Norma already looked bothered by his words.

"Dylan, what happened?"

Emma interrupted again. "I found Alex in the house. I was coming to talk to Norman, and the door was hanging open, so I went inside. When I got there," she stopped, sighing. "Alex was on the floor. He was beat up pretty bad. I called Dylan so that he would know what was going on--"

"Where is he?!"

"Mom, just calm down. He's fine, they're examining him now."

Norma immediately crumpled, wishing she could crawl out of her own skin. She started to mutter something that Dylan didn't understand; he bent down and wrapped his arms around her, as if he could absorb some of her pain. Her sobs grew louder, and as he began to rub her back, she latched onto him protectively. "I don't want him to die, Dylan--"

"He's not dying, Norma. I promise you," He held her a little tighter. "Everything's going to be okay."

Dylan prayed with every breath of his being that he hadn't just lied to his mother.


	23. 23

Norma's footsteps were shaky as the doctor guided her to Alex's room.

"He's might be in a little pain, but he's out of the woods now. He seems to be pretty calm, aside from insisting that he see you."

She nodded.

"He seems to think that someone is looking for you. You know anything about that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not. Here we are," he had barely opened the door before she darted in, reaching for her husband.

He was sitting up in the bed, looking as stoic as usual until he saw her. At first, his expression appeared to harden, yet his eyes were misty and filled with love. "Norma--"

"Oh, Alex-- what happened?"

"Hey, it's alright...I'm fine, it's just-- you're married to a pirate now instead of a unicorn. Hope that's okay."

Her distressed glare was the sort of response he expected.

Alex launched into explaining how he got off work early and saw someone at the motel. He briefly described the altercation, telling her in as few words as possible that he was beat up pretty bad, but he actually felt okay. He described the situation of finding money (although he left out where he found it) and hiding it. He warned her of the man with the thick-rimmed glasses that busted his tail in an attempt to find it, but assured her that it wasn't at the motel.

"Did you give it to him?"

"I-- didn't really get the chance, but I'd imagine he figured out where it was and has it now. I'm sorry, I know you would've wanted to put it into the house..."

She scoffed. "Alex, I'm not worried about that. I almost lost you--" she sounded almost angry now, but he didn't let it bother him. Heck, she deserved to be a little angry.

But then she hugged him, and although his body was sore, he took in the feeling of his skin against hers with great satisfaction and pride. He started coughing when she finally pulled away, and she seemed startled, but he urged for her to speak to him by asking questions about the boys.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. We were here because the boys got into a little fight, and Norman passed out..."

His brow furrowed. "Did Dylan put him in a chokehold or something?"

She slapped his good arm playfully. "Goodness, no. He just-- passed out, right there in the floor. The tests were inconclusive, though, so I guess he just got too worked up," she glanced away from him for a moment. "It's bothering me, Alex. I've never seen Norman that way before, and I just can't believe he would ever get so angry. I mean, Emma told me that they got into a bit of an argument a week ago, but he didn't seem to remember when I asked him about it."

"Maybe he just wanted to forget it, Norma."

Norma shrugged. "I guess."

He noticed that the longer she spoke to him, the less she started to actually look at him. Is she really that disturbed by the lack of eye? he thought, until she piped up again with: "Alex, Honey-- we're going to have a baby," it came out as more of a sigh than a statement, and his brain was slow to process.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant, Alex."

He gawked at her, then started to laugh.

"I don't get what's so funny," she mused, smiling back at him.

"How long has it been?" he managed through the laughter.

"Two months, give or take-- I found out a couple weeks ago," she admitted.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Well," she started, speaking in a quiet tone, "you're the first husband I had that's ever really cared."

"I'm sorry. Do the boys know?"

"Yeah, they know. There was no way I was carrying Norman out to the car myself, and I kinda just spilled the beans on him before anyone. He's taking it better than I thought he would. They both are."

"That's great."

She fought the urge to lay down beside him. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner..."

"It's okay. I'm just..." he let out a chuckle of disbelief. "I'm gonna be a father."

~ ~

A light brown van pulled into the motel.

A man hopped out with as many dents and scratches as the hood of that brown van. He was looking for a woman and a place to stay.

He paused, staring up at the blue Bates Motel sign. He sighed. This was strange, even for Norma, but at least she was making a life for herself.

The short, stocky man ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. Oh, how he longed for a shower. Still, that wouldn't come until he mustered up the courage to deal with business. He steadied himself against the van, then started to walk inside.

He paused a foot away from the door. Past the lettering, he could see her short blonde hair bouncing as she moved from task-to-task. He started to walk in, yet he stopped himself. He knocked, thinking it would be better, perhaps, so as not to scare her. Her head shot up from behind the desk, and she squinted. Shock and confusion and unbelief appeared on her pretty face.

She strode to the door and locked it.

He cursed himself under his breath. His gaze shot towards her massive, forboding house.

He climbed the steps to her house.

"What are you doing?"

He turned. The thickness of her voice indicated to him that she was crying. He expected that, but hated it all the more. "I came to talk. And-- I need a place to stay."

"I have no words for you," she hissed, her chest heaving with every breath. "Get off of my property. Don't you ever show your face here again!" it came out as a squalling scream, and he jerked away from her reflexively, remembering the screams she uttered the day he violated her trust.

"I wouldn't be here long, I just...I need to apologize, Norma--"

The door of the house slammed shut behind a lanky, blue-eyed teenager that was almost certainly Norma's. "Mother, is everything alright?"


	24. 24

Norman walked his mother back to the house.

A spread of sheets was already laying on the couch. "Are you sure you don't want to take my bed?" he asked again. "I don't mind."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Don't be silly, Norman. You're too lanky to try sleeping on this thing." He sat down beside her. Her gaze flitted up the stairs to where her husband must've been laying. I should go check on him, she thought.

Norman went to get a drink, and only then did she start to climb the stairs up to their bedroom. It was greatly furnished, yet also rather dusty. "You alright up here?" she asked, coming in to find him sitting at the window, his expression stony. Her heart leapt as she realized what he might have seen.

"Who was that?" he asked, turning his wheelchair around to face his wife.

She sighed. "My brother, Caleb. I don't know how he found me here."

"You didn't invite him in," Alex noted swiftly.

Norma shrugged. "We've always fought. He's not really good company for the boys anyways," she told him, leaning forward to leave a kiss on his lips. She feared that he already knew she was lying, yet if he did, he didn't say anything about it.

"I love you."

She smiled, then volunteered to wheel him towards the bed. "Sure, why not?" he chimed, being surprisingly chipper for someone with one eye and a busted leg.

Norma helped him into the bed, and he winced the entire time. She felt a little guilty, although she knew there wasn't much she could do to help. "You're a mess," she commented, feeling sorry for him. "You really need my help, don't you, Mr. Tough Guy?" she teased. He didn't laugh, just stared at her, presumably as if she'd just crossed a line. Her smiled faded as she watched him slowly start to drift into sleep.

"You make me miss my mother," he admitted.

She chuckled a little. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I guess I just-- thought she'd be around longer, you know, to take care of me. It's what Moms do, you know?"

Her eyes were misted over. "We've never talked about your mother before..."

"Yeah, well, she's been dead for twenty-two years. Committed suicide," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish.

She found herself speaking past a lump in her throat, and sighed in an effort to get the words out. "When I first moved here, I mentioned to Joyce how you were always so serious. How you never really smiled. She told me a little of what happened to your mother. I never said anything because I know how hard it must be for you to have to carry that with her memory."

"That's my sad story," he said, making little eye contact with her.

Norma laid down beside him for a moment, placing her head on his chest. "I'm sorry, Alex. Life is hard, isn't it?" she mused.

"Sometimes."

They both gave the other a great big smile. Being able to keep her eyes on him made her feel warm and fuzzy, similar to things she felt when she first confided in his handsome, surprisingly charming being. Her loving gaze faultered. Her smile faded. I'm lying to him. That's not really fair, her eyes lost their sparkle as she felt his eyes pierce her soul, He knows, she thought to herself still. He shifted a little, and his good hand searched for one of hers. He found it, and lifted it closer towards him, examining those fingers that so gently cared for him for so long now. His hand wandered up her arm, feeling the robe that she was wearing. The hairs on her arms and neck went haywire at his touch. It was as if her body was engulfed in comfortable static when he touched her. His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her slowly onto him, forcing her lips onto his.

Norma pulled away, then eased the covers up on her husband's body. "I-- I'm not feeling so good...I don't think--"

"You're beautiful, Norma Bates," he called, watching her as she walked away.

She smiled, shaking her head, then came back over to him, kissing his cheek. She sat down again. "Alex," she bit her lip, "If we have a girl, I think I want to call her Theresa," she paused, then added hastily, "But only if it's okay with you. I don't want to use it if it will hurt you."

He gave a faint smile. "I think she would've loved it, that's all that matters."

"I love you, Alex. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Babe."

Norma was halfways down the stairs when she heard a familiar tune wafting from the piano. Her skin started to crawl, and she fought the urge to yell at Norman to stop. He started to sing, and her head pounded. His words were deep, yet his expression was hollow and lifeless. Still, she stopped at the end of the stairs and listened, hoping he did not see the expression on his face. The tune was so dreadfully sad that she could hardly form a thought besides that of sorrow. His fingers trembled on the piano, and he faltered, crying.

"Norman, what was that?"

He turned to her with a tear-filled yet blank gaze. "I don't remember. I don't even remember where I learned it." He almost certainly noticed her frightened expression, for he stood from the piano's bench. "I love you, Mother. Goodnight." She watched as he walked up the stairs, thinking it strange that he hadn't even kissed her goodnight.

"Okay, Norman. Goodnight. Sleep well," she told him, before cutting out the light and laying down to sleep.

~ ~

Norman Bates stood over her petite figure. His hands longed to feel her blonde hair against them, her baby-soft skin called to his own crawling skin, and he jerked away from her. For a moment, he though he woke her up, yet her chest rose and fell slowly with every breath.

He devised the plan. Now, if he only had the courage to go through with it.


	25. 25

The silky-brown puppy nibbled on Caleb's hands. He fought back laughter, trying to look serious, although he knew it was a lost cause. "C'mon, sweetheart, why don't you save up some of that energy for Norma, okay?"

She whimpered at him. He kept walking, ignoring the little play bites until he got to the motel's door and walked in.

"May I help you?"

He was surprised to find a teenage boy working behind the desk, until he remembered the blue-eyed young man he had seen on Norma's doorstep. "Hey, uh, I was wondering if Norma's here?"

The kid shook his head. "She won't be back for a little while now. Went to go get some new shower curtains. You can wait for her here if you'd like, or I can get you a room, for the right price," he offered. Caleb watched eerily as the boy's hand hovered over the candy bowl and gathered a handful of candy while his eyes never stopped staring at his new visitor. "Uh, I'll just wait here, if you don't mind," he found a chair in the office's little foyer and sat, being serveyed by Norman as he did so.

"Where'd you get the puppy?" he asked.

Caleb gave a tired grin. "Someone just down the street was giving them away," he glanced down at the little wirehaired thing, watching as it tripped over it's own ears and rolled around in a less-than-graceful way. "Figured it might be a nice present for Norma. She used to love baby animals when we were growing up. Would go out of her way to bring scraps to the strays and all that," he muttered softly. "That is, until our father stopped her." His green gaze became wistful as he looked from the puppy back to Norman. "So, you know Norma, then?"

"She's my mother."

The older man seemed breathless in that moment. He glanced up at Norman, his smile huge. "So you are Norma's. Nice to meet you," he told him. "Are you John Massett's boy?" he asked casually.

Norman chuckled a little. "Oh, no, she's not in contact with him anymore. My father was Samuel Bates. She left him soon after I was born; Dylan says he was terrible to her."

"Dylan?"

"Dylan's my older brother. He's John Massett's son, although he hasn't gone to visit him lately."

Caleb sighed. "I hear she's married to the Sheriff, now, is that true?"

"Yeah, that's Alex. He's really the only father I've ever known," Norman admitted, fiddling with the tape dispenser.

"And he's good to her?"

"Oh, yes."

A vehicle pulled into the drive. Norma peered at the lot from behind the desk, immediately recognizing his mother's car. Caleb followed his gaze. They both watched as Norma got out of the car, slamming its door only to open another one. She pulled out a few paper bags, then eased the door shut with her hips, nearly cursing as she tripped over her own shoe.

Norman moved to open the door, but it was too late. She had already seen Caleb's figure and threw down the grocery bags, storming into the motel office. Norma slung the door open, screeching, "What are you doing here?! Get away from him!"

"Norma, hang on, just let me explain--"

"Get out, or I will call the police."

"Mother..."

"I don't want to hear it, Norman, you don't know what he's done." 

"I just think that you should hear him out--"

"Hear him out?" she let out a mix between a gasp and a shudder, "Norman, what he did to me was terrible," she moaned, shooting a glare in Caleb's direction. "It was unforgiveable," she hissed, turning towards him violently.

"Get out of my motel before I kill you," she threatened, her body shaking as she did so. "Get out!" she screamed, and he did, but not before handing Norman the puppy that he'd intended for his sister.

She watched as he left, then locked the door behind him. She turned back to Norman, wiping her forehead. "We're not keeping that thing," she said, stomping past her son.

"C'mon, Mother, what am I going to do with it?!" he called.

"Do whatever you want to with it, Norman!" she called back.

Norman stared down at the puppy, wondering what Caleb may have done to his mother.

~ ~

His little blonde-haired angel stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly eyeing the bump of her womb. He mused quietly as she tousled her own hair then bit her lip. She turned to one side, then the other, and, realizing that her dress was crooked, fixed it with deft fingers. "You okay over there, Momma?" he asked, smiling.

"I suppose so," she looked in the mirror again. "I dunno, what do you think?"

"I think you look fine," he told her. He came up behind her, helping her to zip the blue-and-white dress. 

Norma turned to gaze up at her lover's face, then glanced down at his leg. "You really shouldn't be walking on that thing," she told him.

"I can't believe you're still fussing over me," he said, sounding amused.

"I am not fussing over you, I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself, that's all."

"You're fussing over me," he teased, bringing his hand up to stroke her soft cheeks.

She wrapped an arm around Alex's neck, leaning up to kiss him. Smells like lavender, he thought, nibbling on her neck a little before pausing. "You're tense," he stated simply.

His wife sighed, pulling away from him a little. "Caleb showed up at the motel again. Tried to give me a dog," she explained. "Norman's got it now. He's probably going to try to keep it," she warned.

"What did he do to you, Norma?"

Her gaze faltered. "We've just-- my father was a drunk, my mother was always high, and Caleb...was a mean-spirited person."

"So-- you're mean-spirited brother brought you a dog?"

"Alex, please, just drop it," she begged.

He saw the stress in her eyes and caressed her gently. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything. If you don't want your brother around, then he won't get another chance to come around. Okay?"

"Okay."


	26. 26

*TRIGGER WARNING*

"Juno. I'll call you Juno," he said, rubbing the puppy's head.

Dylan stood next to him with a cereal bowl in one hand and a box of Lucky Charms in the other. "Where'd you get that thing?"

"This man, Caleb, came over to the motel yesterday. Tried to give Juno to Mom. She told him that if he came again, she'd call the police, and then she kicked him out."

"Norma...has a brother?"

"I guess so. You know, I doubted it at first, but the more I watched him, the more I realized, they looked so alike--"

"I don't understand. Did she say why she kicked him out?"

"No. She just told me I could do whatever I wanted with Juno, here," he paused, gazing down at the puppy with soft eyes. "I think I'll keep her."

Norma came down the stairs, squinting tiredly at the boys. "Oh, I'm so sorry you two, I was gonna make breakfast, but I'm so late--" she peered at the clock on the wall. "Has anyone been down to the motel?"

Norman nodded. "I've been down. Everything seems fine, you should rest," he said. Juno had now wriggled out of his arms and was ambling around on the floor, going over to Norma to sniff her feet. 

Her eyes were narrow as she glanced down at him, mentally cursing her brother. We didn't need a dog, she thought. "Nonsense, Norman. I have some paperwork to go through," she said, grabbing a rain coat from their coat rack. She knelt down to glare at the dog, "You're not coming with me," she whispered, before he marched up to her, licking her nose with his little puppy tongue. She chuckled a little, then stood. "Norman, I think Emma wanted to come see you today, you might want to get dressed."

He shrugged. "Alright."

Norma started down to the motel. She hadn't noticed that little Juno was following her, she was too busy staring through the rain at the motel.

A brown van was sitting in it's lot again. She paused, then stomped in quite angrily. "Caleb, what are you doing here?" she asked, a little more calmly than the last two times.

"I-- I just wanted to see how the little one was doing," he said, glancing down at the silky-furred animal. "She seems to have taken up with you."

"Well, she's not mine, she's Norman's. Sorry, your plan didn't work. I've got enough to deal with, anyways," she muttered under her breath.

Caleb heard it, then suddenly noticed his sister's slightly swollen womb.

"You can quit staring. I know what you're thinking. I still don't want you here."

He shook his head, continuing, "Norma, I didn't have a plan. I just...wanted to come and apologize. I know that nothing I ever do for you will ever be able to make up for what I took from you."

"You raped me!" she screamed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she spoke. Tears erupted from her eyes; she started to crumbled yet forced herself to continue, "You just saw what was there and took it without any regard as to how it made me feel, or how it made me look. You just raped me and you now you want to walk in here and act like nothing has happened!" She lowered her head so that he could no longer see her face. It would be too easy for him to look at her and know that she was breaking; he had done it before, and would do it again.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I regret it every day of my life, Norma. What I did to you was wrong, and I'm not asking to come back into your life again. I just want your forgiveness, if you can ever give it."

She finally looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembling. Norma opened her mouth to speak, before Norman stormed through the door, grabbing Caleb and throwing him up against the wall. Caleb was dazed by Norman's attack. The young man punched him a few times, prompting him to fight back. "Norman, stop!"

But Norman didn't stop. He punched Caleb until his nose bled. His hands hovered over her brother's neck for a moment before he started squeezing. The sandy-haired man struggled beneath him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Norman's puppy barked and barked and barked, egging on the fight. "Norman, Norman you have to stop!" she screamed, grabbing her son's shoulders. He shook her off, nearly elbowing her, his eyes glazed over darkly.

"Norman, please, you can't kill him! He's Dylan's father!"

Her youngest son loosened his grib on Caleb's throat. He turned to face his mother. "What?"

He glanced up at his mother. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, her lips still trembling. "Caleb-- he's Dylan's father," she admitted, sobbing.

As if on cue, Dylan busted through the door. "What's going on here? Mom, are you okay?" he asked, grasping her shoulders gently.

Her breathing slowed. "Everything's fine, Dylan," she glanced over at Caleb's limp body. "Norman, he was just defending me...he didn't know--" she stopped herself.

"Wha-- defending you from what? What did he do to you?"

She cried. "He did do anything, he just came to talk."

"Talk about what?"

"He raped me, Dylan. When I was young, and still at home, he raped me."

Dylan glanced over in disbelief at Caleb's body. "Norma, you can't-- surely he wouldn't..." he paused, remembering that only this morning did he learn that his mother even had a brother. "Let's get him out of here," he said, walking towards the body.

"Mother."

"What is it, Norman?" she sniffed.

"He deserves to know."

Dylan turned around. "What are you talking about?"

Norma started crying again. "Dylan-- Caleb is your father," she could hardly get it out without blubbering all over him. "I'm sorry."

She hadn't seen this look on her son's face before, and it scared her.

His eyes were wild, his expression even more startled than before as he realized what must have happened for such a thing to be true. So he was the illegitimate child. Really, it explained so much. He could remember those moments from his youth when his mother was ever so harsh with him, yet so incredibly gentle with Norman. Why it never felt right to call anyone father, even Alex. He saw the look in his mother's eyes; the way she must've hated him with such a fire and a passion. He wondered how she was ever able to look at him every day. 

And then he began to wonder about himself, too. What would this mean for him? Would he ever be able to have friends? To be married to someone, without something so ugly hanging over his head? Any potential wife would be turned off by the, "Yeah, my uncle is also my dad," conversation, and what would that mean in terms of children? Could he ever really bring children into this world, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that it might jeopardize the life of his offspring?

It was too much to take. He didn't know how she could still look at him, or why she was even still crying over him.

He fled, taking this new information with him.


	27. 27

Norma dragged herself inside. She sat on the couch, her body convulsing as she sobbed.

Everything was a bit of a blur, given the tears and the strands of hair that were now falling from above her ears, but she thought she heard the couch groan as Norman's little puppy, Juno, scrabbled onto the couch and looked up at her questioningly.

She barked. Norma stared at her blankly. "He's gone."

The puppy yipped again.

"Go away."

She stared at her, then lowered her head, as if she was expecting Norma to pat her. "Go away! Norman's gone, he's gone!" she screamed, beating her fists against the couch near where Juno laid. She dodged Norma once, growled, then stood up straight, glaring daggers at her. "Get out!" she screamed, her lips trembling.

She crumbled. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as sobs fell out with each hitched breath. She raised her hand to the puppy's snout. She yawned, then climbed into Norma's lap, pushing against her bulging belly as she made herself comfortable.

Norma could only cry louder as she stared down at the little animal that was curled in her lap. Her hands went to her womb again; she thought she might've been able to feel the little one stirring inside her, although it was hard to tell, given her current state of mind.

She closed her eyes, remembering one of the many days she had spent at home with Caleb. Her blonde hair would be pulled into a pony tail until they got home from school, when she would let it down and he would run a hand through it before pushing its strands behind her ear. She could feel her bare feet against the floor as she stood from her spot on his lap. 

"Dad's home. Caleb. Caleb, wake up!"

His eyes shot open. He glanced around the living room.

"C'mon, we gotta go, Dad's home. If he sees us laying around like this, he'll kill us."

"Okay. I'm up," he responded, taking her hand. She pulled him up and they shot towards the bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Norma turned, smiling at him. "How much you wanna bet that it will take him an hour to find us this time?" she asked.

"Oh, c'mon Norma, you know he--"

She grabbed his hand again. "C'mon, let's go and find out," she said, dragging him towards the window. She lifted it, and he watched as she started to climb out, nearly tripping as she sat on the roof.

"Hang on, Norma. I don't want you to fall," he whispered, following her out.

They manuvered carefully off the roof and ran into the open field that was their backyard. A million dandelions and lupines flowered here, and Norma shouted upon gathering the fresh air into her lungs. "This is great. I love being out here. It's so wide open and beautiful," her gaze drifted ahead to Caleb, who was already sitting amongst the tall grass, shrouded by the shade of their little birch tree. She walked over to him, plopping down beside him and placing her head on his chest.

He was already holding one of the light blue flowers in his hand. "Why do you think they call em' lupines?" he asked, bringing the long, stalking plant towards her. She smiled and took it from him, grasping it between gentle fingers.

"Lupine is the latin word for wolf," she told him, gazing up into his affectionate, green eyes. "I don't know why they'd think "wolf" when they named it that, though."

"Maybe-- maybe it's because it grows wild, I don't know..." he paused. "Wild, like someone I know," he mused, giving her a big, cheesy grin.

Norma pulled away from him, shoving him playfully. "You're crazy, Caleb!"

"I'm crazy? I think I know someone that's crazier, Norma Louise," he teased, tackling her to the ground. They landed in the soft, tall grass, rolling around in it until their clothes were green and their faces were red with laughter. 

Those were the days when she knew everything about her brother. She understood the way he thought, the way he worked his mind around things, and moreover, she understood the childlike affection he had for her, because she shared it, too.

Those were the days when it was nice.

Norma remembered laying her head against his chest for the last time, as a pitiful whine escaped her mouth. She glanced at Norman, expecting him to look guilty over what he had done, yet he only stared back, glaring straight through her.

She darted for the door and just barely made it out, hearing Norman's footsteps behind her. She thundered into the house. "Dylan! Dylan!" she screeched. No answer. Her hands drifted to her pockets; her phone was nowhere to be found. Dread crept through her mind as she thought of what Norman might do to her. She heard him come in and slam the door. The usually-lightfooted woman ran to her bedroom, searching for her phone. She found it, snatching it up quickly and running down to the basement. The doorknobs creaked as she fumbled to lock them.

Her phone beeped as she made the call. The thick air hitched in her throat. It was obvious that Norman had been using some type of chemical down here; she coughed, hoping that it was nothing that could harm her unborn child.

Fresh tears glistened on her cheeks as she sat against the wall, calling Alex on her cell. "Alex," she paused, gasping, "I'm worried about Norman. He should be admitted," she choked. Preceding her next words were a pained sob. "No, I'm fine, it's just-- Caleb came back, and Norman...he strangled him to death," she panted, "and now his body's in the motel, and Norman-- something's wrong with him, and I need you to come home now," she managed, sucking in a breath of the possibly-toxic air.

Something slammed against the door. Norma hung up. She ran towards the racks that lined the walls of the cellar, hoping to find something she could defend herself with. A rusty pair of trimmers, her conscience said, filling in the blanks.

It slammed against the door again, except this time, his head broke through the old door. She screamed. "Norman, stop this. You're going to hurt yourself."

He pulled himself away.

Then, just as she thought he had calmed, his hand reached through the door, unlatching the locks and pulling the knob.

Her heart was thrumming so loudly that she could hear it, and she wondered if her son could hear it, too.

She inched closer towards him, gulping, and hid the rusty blades behind her back.

"I'm not going to let you lock me up."

"Norman, you have to trust me."

"I can't."

"Norman, you have to get help. It's what's best for all of us, you'll see--"

"You want me to leave, so you and Alex can be alone now that Dylan is gone."

She shuddered. "Norman, that's not it at all, and you know that. Pineview is a beautiful place where you can get help--"

"What's behind your back, Mother?" he asked.

"It's nothing." She was a terrible liar, she knew, and she could also tell that he knew, just by the look in his eyes.

He stalked towards her, his figure towering over her like a dark shadow.

"You just have to trust me..."

Something stirred upstairs. Norman must have noticed, for he looked away. Now was her chance. She could stab him in the gut, and he'd fall backwards, hitting his head against the cold, concrete floor.

Norma let out a wretched sob. You've just thought about stabbing your own son, she told herself sorrowfully. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling the trimmers from behind her back and arching them in his direction, "I'm doing this for you."

Alex busted through the door. Norma threw the trimmers to the side, sobbing.

"You're coming with me," Romero told him, trying to be strictly professional. It wasn't working; his voice was already breaking. "We're gonna get you help, son."

Norma cried as she watched them drive away, fighting the urge to go with them. She needed to rest, Alex had said.

She would never rest. All she could dream about was how she had almost killed her youngest son.


	28. 28

*TRIGGER WARNING*

"Dylan...Dylan-- I don't want you to be afraid to come home. I didn't tell Alex. I know it must be so hard for you, and I'm so sorry," she paused, "I never wanted you to know, because I was afraid of what it would do to you. I was afraid of what Caleb might think, if he found out that he had a son...I just want you to know, I would never trade you for anything, no matter who your father is. I love you, and nothing's ever going to change that.

I'm worried about Norman. Alex took him to Pineview after what he did. First the blackouts, and now this-- I'm scared for him, Dylan. And I really need you here. I need you to come home."

It was the message she sent the night Alex had left with Norman, the night she couldn't sleep for worrying over her boys. Norman had almost certainly lost his mind, and Dylan's absence scared Norma into thinking that something could really be wrong with him.

Months passed with no response from Dylan, Emma, or Will. It was as if they had just vanished without telling anyone where they were going.

Norma had managed to keep her secret until a day came when the world swarmed her fearful thoughts. She was in another frenzy of cooking and cleaning when it all came showering down on her, spilling over Alex in a mad tumble of words.

"I wish you wouldn't worry yourself over this, Norma," Alex first told her, "Dylan is an adult. He can take care of himself, and I'm sure he would let you know if something was wrong."

"I just-- I can't just not worry, Alex. He left in such a hurry," she scurried from one end of the counter to the other, chopping vegetables and frying beef in a frying pan. He came up behind her, brushing her shoulders so as not to catch her off guard. Norma had been unusually jumpy during her son's disappearance, and it made him think that she didn't feel safe.

"Come. Sit down," he told her, kissing her forehead. Her uneasy gaze drifted to the floor. He glanced over at the burning contents of the pan. "Don't worry about cooking. I'll order something and have it sent here." His gentle hands guided her to the living room.

She sat on the couch, feeling guilty. Here she was, fretting over Norman and Dylan, yet knowing that Alex's patience was wearing thin. She could see just by his stance that it was torture for him to try and comfort her with so little knowledge as to what had truly happened on the day that Caleb came to the motel for the last time.

"Alex," she started.

"Yeah?"

Her body started to tremble unnervingly.

He noted her silence and hung up the phone, seeing the tears that brimmed her terrified blue eyes.

"I need to tell you--" she stopped herself again. If she told him this, he would hate her. She could see it in her mind: the disappointed expression on his face as he turned away from her, questioning why she never told him this. Wondering what else his wife must be hiding from him. Being touched with the knowledge of what a disgusting creature she was...he would hate her, she was almost definitely certain.

He sat beside her on the couch, patiently waiting for whatever she had to say.

Norma could hardly look at those kindly, brown eyes. She wanted him to be mad at her, wanted him to be spiteful so that she could say what she needed to say and feel justified at how it might make him feel.

"What is it?"

"Um-- well...when I was young, my--my brother...my brother and I, we slept together," she admitted, wincing as she spoke. "And-- it was terrible. Everything, it was all terrible. My mother, she was ill and on medication all the time, and my father, he was terrible to us...but all we had was each other, I guess, and..." she paused, sniffling a little.

We were together for years. I tried to stop it when I was seventeen, and it made him really angry," she looked up at him, her usually bright eyes growing ever dim, "And he raped me. I loved him, and he raped me anyways," she found herself looking down at the floor to avoid her husband's silent, stoic gaze. "And Dylan-- he's Dylan's father. 

I guess...I guess Norman overheard us talking and figured it out. I had to tell Dylan, he had a right to know but, I'm worried, Alex. I'm worried because I'm afraid that he'll think I don't love him. I'm afraid that he'll hate himself, like I hate myself....like I hated Caleb," her voice broke for a moment, "I hated him so much," she admitted, "But I never wanted him dead. I just thought I could control it, and I can't. And it hurts. And if anyone finds out, this could hurt you, and I don't want to hurt you-- if you want to leave me, I wouldn't blame you. I didn't tell you the truth, and I deserve whatever you do to me. Just please go, just...pack your bags."

His gaze was misted with understanding as he wrapped his arms around her, saying nothing. They laid together for a while in awkward silence, and for the first few minutes she feared that this was his way of saying goodbye. However, as time passed, and he still refused to move, she began to realize that perhaps he really did forgive her for what she had done so long ago. Perhaps, she realized, he understood that she wasn't good a being a wife, and maybe he wasn't as perfect as she thought, either. Or, maybe he was too busy hating her to know what to do with himself, she thought.

"Let's go to bed," he muttered eventually, seeing her wary gaze eye him uncomfortably.

Disbelief etched itself on her broken face. "But-- I thought..."

"C'mon," he said, helping her stand. "Up you go," he said, guiding his confused wife up the stairs.

She sat on the bed, staring up at him. He untied her apron, laying it on the bench at the end of their bed. Then, he started to unbutton her shirt, unveiling her fair skin. She bit her lip. His touch was compassionate and his lips soft as they graced her neck with a kiss...she melted underneath him as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, hiding her from the world

It wouldn't fix things, he knew. It wouldn't help to take the pain away from her mind. However, it would ease her into a calm, much-needed sleep.


	29. 29

Dylan returned home late one night, startling his parents. He quickly explained that he and Will had taken Emma to a facility in Portland; she had suffered a medical emergency as her lungs got worse. Everything happened so fast that he forgot to call, and even though he thought about calling later, he didn't think his mother would want to speak to him.

"Oh, Dylan," she sighed, hugging him. He quickly noticed that her womb had grown in size; Alex and Norma's child would soon be making an appearance. "I'm so proud," she started, "I'm so proud that someone like you could come out of something so terrible. I love you."

He pulled away from her, almost regretting what he was about to say. "I love you too, Mom, but I can't stay here."

Her crestfallen expression filled his chest with guilt. "I'm sorry, it's just-- Emma, she's stuck up there, waiting for a new pair of lungs," he said, "I...I really love her, and I think she needs someone to be there for her right now."

Norma smiled. "Oh, Honey, that's so sweet. I'm happy for you. Well, why don't you at least get some rest before you go, okay? It's late, and you'll be miserable if you try to go back now."

"Yeah, I uh-- I was actually thinking about going to see Norman, if he's not home yet."

Norma and Alex shared nervous expressions. "He's not home yet. We were hoping that he would be home within the next month, but it's hard to say. His doctors are saying that he's improving, but that he seems really distant lately," Alex informed him. He glanced back a Norma, who had turned and started fiddling with something on the kitchen counter. "He's refusing to see your mother, and it's really bothering her."

"Why would he do that? I don't understand..."

"She doesn't even know. She'll hardly talk about it with me," he whispered, although he had a funny feeling that Norma knew exactly what they were speaking of.

"I'll talk to him when I go," Dylan promised, before starting towards the stairs.

"Um, Dylan, sweetheart, can I talk with you about something for a minute? It'll only take a minute," she told him, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah, Mom?" he watched as Alex stepped away, making his way to the bedroom.

"We haven't put the baby's things in yet, and I was just wondering-- I want you to feel like you always have a home here, but if we move Norman's things and he comes home, it'll make him really upset--"

"Don't worry about it, Mom. I'm not gonna be jealous if you give my room to the baby," he said, clearly amused that she would even imagine such a thing.

"Oh, Honey, thank you." She hugged him again, and he held her tight, remembering when he was only a boy in her arms.

He laughed. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Dyl. Love you."

~ ~

The Bates Motel sign switched on at seven o'clock the next morning. Norma sat behind the desk, going through a few files while she waited on potential customers. It was terribly cold outside that November, and the heat had stopped working in the house. Lucky for her, there would be no freezing to death, as the motel was pleasantly warm.

She sat serenly behind the desk, reading one of Norman's books. It was some sort of odd thing having to do with mummification. Her stomach twisted as she wrapped her mind around the nitty, gritty details of it all, before she was shaken by the bell of the door.

It was only Dylan, who was presumably popping in to say goodbye before leaving to visit Norman. "Hey, Mom. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She shrugged. "Oh, no, it's just this book. Pretty interesting stuff, but not so great for a weak stomach." She pushed it away before her hands slid to her womb. "Oh. Woah, okay," she was looking through him, steadying her breathing, and he caught her expression with a slightly more alarmed one.

"Mom, are you okay?" he asked, stepping around the desk to wrap an arm around her.

Norma nodded. "I'm fine, it's fine," her hands never moved, though, and Dylan was rightfully vigilant of the situation. "Just go get Alex, okay?"

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitating at the idea of leaving her.

"It's fine, Dylan, we've got plenty of time, just go get Alex," she told him calmly. His last glimpse of her was that of her hand reaching for the phone before he fled.

She wobbled out from behind the desk, taking slow, cautious footsteps. It was snowing, and the outside gravel was sure to be a little wet. Norma made it half ways to the car before she watched Alex bust down the door, running at full speed down the stone steps. "Be careful!" she called, wincing at the thought of him falling on the way to the hospital.

Still, he ran straight for her with no thought to his personal well-being; the short-sleeved shirt and lack of coat was bothering her to no end. "Alex, you're going to freeze to death!" she chided, ignoring his jittering.

"Shouldn't we be leaving?" he asked, sounding surprised at the level of calm that was emanating from her being.

He helped her into the car, then slammed on the gas, nearly pushing the pedal through the floor. "Alex, slow down. We'll be fine. We have plenty of time, I promise," she said, glancing back through the rear view.

Dylan was getting into his truck. She watched as he pulled out of the motel, then turned in the direction of Pineview Institute.

Norma sighed, lowering her head. "I wish I could speak to him right now."

Alex looked confused. "Dylan?"

She rolled her eyes. "Norman."

He was silent. Norma felt something touch her hand, and she turned back to see Alex holding it. "Hey, it'll be okay," he said, smiling a little. "You've done the right thing."

"I hope so," she admitted. "I hope he knows that I love him," she said longingly.

"I know he does."

Norma stared out the window, picturing her youngest son, wondering what he must be doing at that very moment.


	30. 30

*TRIGGER WARNING*

Norma glanced over at Alex. "They've stopped."

"What?"

"The contractions-- they stopped."

"Well, we're here now..."

"We should go on in. They could start up again any minute, and I'd rather be there than here," she said.

Twenty minutes later, she was laying in a hospital bed, watching the flat-screen television with Alex at her side. They were showing Cheers. Norma had never watched much TV; she had rarely used the one they had growing up, so it never became a habit for her. However, she found herself digesting plenty of ridiculous children's cartoons over the years, that and the black-and-white films Norman loved so much. Yet Alex laughed along with every joke, even though he could quote every line like he had heard it a million times.

"This used to be my father's favorite show," he muttered under his breath.

Norma winced, and when she didn't respond, her husband's gaze was torn from the television. "You okay?"

She let out a breath of air. "Yeah. How far apart was that?"

"It's been almost an hour."

Norma sighed.

He held her hand again, squeezing it gently. She smiled back at him, before glaring at the clock.

She had barely slept the night before and was now so tired that her head bobbed and her eyelids felt heavy. The prospect of sleeping made her anxious, though. I need-- to stay awake, she told herself, shivering.

Her head eventually hit the pillow. She didn't know how long it was before she was disturbed again, yet at some point the doctor came in and Alex woke her calmly. He asked them a few questions before moving on to check Norma, upon which she was disappointed to learn that she was barely dilated.

"Hey, it's okay, Norma, your water hasn't even broken yet," Alex said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're getting there, albeit slowly."

She rolled her eyes, huffing at him.

Another contraction came and went, and Alex rubbed his wife's neck, doing what he hoped would help to distract her from the pain. "The boys-- neither of the boys took this long," she told him, grasping his hand as the pain started to ease. "It's strange...it's different. I just hope nothing's wrong," she said.

"Norma, listen to me. Nothing's wrong. You're not doing anything wrong. You just need to try to rest," he glanced at the TV, "Maybe watch a little television, and just stay calm. You're doing great."

"That's easy for you to say. You've never done anything like this before," she groaned. He was surprised when her expression changed to a smile. "Now, that would be something I'd pay to see," she teased, poking him. "Mr. Tough Guy Romero vs. Labor Pains."

He smiled playfully at her. "Yeah, I'm not gonna argue with that one. You paint me up as Mr. Tough Guy, but you're the tough one," for a moment, she thought he was getting all teary-eyed on her. "You know, if I had ever known about all those things that happened to you before," he paused, "If I had been the one going through what you went through...I don't think I'd be alive today."

They shared a kiss. Upon pulling away, Norma steeled herself against another contraction. The hand that was previously interlocked with her husband's escaped to rest on her womb. She gasped. He placed his hand over hers, on her belly, just to see if he could feel anything.

Another hour came and went. Norma shifted around, thinking that the change in position might help, yet with little success. However, even as the contractions came, she kept herself calm, with a few soothing words from Alex every now and then. "Okay-- I need to stand up," she insisted, raising herself up in the bed.

"Are you sure?"

"C'mon Alex, I know what I'm doing, just help me up," she begged, squeezing his hand.

"Okay, alright," he moved quickly to the other side of the bed, putting one arm around her while she maneuvered herself carefully out from under the sheets. Norma stood at the end of the bed, holding herself up with both hands as she leaned against it for support. She took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of another contraction. "Alex--"

Before she could say anything else he was behind her, holding her hands and supporting her as she whimpered from the force of the pain.

"Maybe you should lay back down."

She shook her head. "No. Standing is helping," her breathing steadied as she composed herself again.

"Uh-- Norma, baby, I think your water just broke."

Norma released herself from his grasp, holding her womb, staring down at the floor. "Oh, yeah. It's broke," she leaned into him, smiling confidently. "I told you standing would help." He didn't know whether to be proud or bothered as she climbed back into the bed, making herself as comfortable as possible. "Good thing you brought a change of clothes, huh?" she mused.

"I'm glad you think this is funny." He glanced down at his own wet clothes, then back to her.

She laughed. "Go on. Go change. I'll be fine here."

Norma thought she heard him grumbling under his breath as he walked away.

A nurse came in to examine Norma during the next hour. When Alex came back out, his wife was smiling. "We're almost there."

"That's great, honey. See, I told you everything's alright," he sat in the chair next to the bed, which was still close enough for him to wrap an arm around her. She started to breath heavily once more, and he brought a damp cloth to her face as the next contraction wracked her body. Norma reached for his other hand and he gave it to her, speaking to her in hushed tones.

When it was over, he pulled her hair back again, kissing her temple. "It's okay, you're doing good..."

The nurse turned her attention to the couple again. "Norma, dear, I think it's time we get you to the delivery room."

Norma smiled wanly at Alex as they moved her to the delivery room. The place was already set up with everything the doctor would need to successfully assist in the birth. Alex stood on her left side, his arm interlocked with her left leg as she started to push. "Five more seconds," the nurse told her. She stopped, throwing her head back against the pillow with a few deep breaths.

"Alright, the next contraction will be in about thirty seconds."

"Oh, Alex--"

"You're doing good, Norma. She's almost here," he promised her. "I'm sure she's beautiful."

She met his reassuring gaze with a soft one before closing her eyes and gritting her teeth against the next contraction. The doctor encouraged her to push, and she did as she was told. "She's crowning," Norma moaned, "I can feel it." Her eyes met her husband's, and for a moment she swore she saw tears in his eyes.

"Alright, you're going to have to push harder now," the nurse urged. Norma cried out, tucking her chin into her chest. "You're going to have to push harder, nothing's happening."

Her breathing slowed and she stopped for a moment before continuing.

"One more time, Norma."

A few minutes later, their child took her first breath. Norma was crying now, yet her tears were happy. "Oh, Alex, she's perfect," she told him, watching as they wrapped her baby in a soft blanket.

"She's got a pretty good set of lungs on her," he said. They laid the screaming bundle in Norma's arms, and she calmed to a low cry.

"Yeah, I'd say she gets that from me," she teased, kissing him on the cheek.

"Do you have a name for her?"

Norma nodded. "Yeah. I think we'll call her Theresa," she took Alex's hand; if he wasn't crying before, he definitely was now. "Theresa Joann Romero."

Alex's smile set her heart on fire. She couldn't help but look down at their new baby; Norma's first baby girl.

~ ~

They had all fallen asleep an hour later, much to everyone's surprise. Norma had expected the child to be a bit more fussy, yet after her first feeding, she seemed to be just as tired as everyone else. Now, Alex sat in the chair beside the bed, snoring. Norma laid on the hospital bed, her hands in her lap. Baby Theresa laid beside her, curled up in a blanket in the bassonet, snoozing away.

Norma rolled over, gazing lovingly at her baby. Although she had always loved her boys, and would never trade them for anything, it pleased her to finally have a little girl, even if it didn't quite go as expected.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and she snatched it up, expecting to see Dylan's face light up its screen. She sighed, her suspicions confirmed. "Hey Honey, how's it going over there? Dylan?"

She froze. On the other end of the phone, her eldest's screams could be heard.

"Dylan?"

The call was lost.

Her phone buzzed again, and she swiped it, glaring at a message that presumably came from Norman's phone.

Norman? He's not supposed to--

COME ALONE.

What?

Her mind went back to Dylan's cries for help.

It buzzed again. COME ALONE, OR HE DIES.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She started to hyperventilate, then coached herself into breathing normally again as she wondered what could possibly be happening to Dylan at this very moment.

Alex was still snoring in the chair next to her bed.

The baby fidgeted a little, sighed, then appeared to drift back to sleep.

There was only one thing she knew to do.

COME ALONE, OR HE DIES.

Norma stood on weak, wobbly legs, feeling numb as she did so, yet knowing that she needed to try to walk if she was going to get anywhere. Once she was sure that she wouldn't fall over, she padded quietly from the room, peering out the door before doing so.

There were five people walking around outside their rooms; one woman walking slowly with a nurse at her side, and another walking with her husband on one side and a nurse on the other. There was a desk across from her with a lady behind it, who was busying herself by filing papers. Just act natural, like you're supposed to be here, and no one will say a word. Norma winced as her feet touched the cold, bare floor. Shoes would've been a good idea, she chided herself silently.

An alarm went off behind her, and the lady behind the desk called out to her. Norma ran at full speed, ignoring the awkwardness that was running in a hospital gown.

She got a head start of a few minutes, and even managed to get a few floors down without being questioned. There were some weird glares, sure, but she was getting used to it.

Norma busted out of the elevator, surprised to see a security guard slowly inching her way. "Hey, Miss, you're not supposed to be down here--" she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, and he sped after her, getting way too close when she finally lost her footing, slamming into the cold floor with a wince. She glanced down at herself, momentarily realizing how crazy she must have looked with her hair askew and blood staining her hospital gown.

She cursed herself mentally before getting up.

Norma made it out the door and into the car, jamming the key in and speeding out of the parking lot. She fought the urge to look at her phone as it buzzed again, then gave in, glancing over it quickly.

THE HOUSE IS LIT AND WAITING.

Norma knew that this had every possibility of being a trap, yet she no longer cared. If someone was messaging her phone and wanted her to come to the house, she would do it, if it meant that her children would survive safely.

Still, most of the pieces of the puzzle were missing, and she thought she felt regret welling in her chest as she walked up the steps to her suddenly forboding home.

These steps are going to be the death of me.

She climbed higher, feeling more fatigued the longer she walked. You're going to kill yourself, she could hear Alex chiding gently.

Norma opened the creaky door, poking her head inside. A gust of cold air hit her, and she shivered, wishing she had a coat to wrap around her. It's nearly as cold in here as it is outside, she realized, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Dylan, Honey, are you here?" she asked, walking into a dresser that was sitting in the foyer. She groaned, paused to servey the kitchen, then went on. "Dylan?" she turned the corner, glancing at her stained-glass window before she heard a muffled commotion.

"Dylan?!?"

In the living room was Dylan, propped up in one of the kitchen chairs with a rope tied around him and a piece of duct tape stuck over his mouth. She ran to him, and started to pull off the tape, hoping to understand his muffled cries.

She hardly had time to notice his wild expression before hearing the footsteps of the man that was sneaking behind her. Norma turned, taking in the mop of dark hair and the bulgy, blue eyes that studied her wearily. "Why, hello, Mother. It's nice to see that you're doing so well, after having been away for so long."

Norma stiffened. She finally understood it in that moment. "Norman?! Why would you tie him up like this? What are you doing to him? Why--" she could hardly form the words. He must have noticed the obvious disgust in her voice, for he flinched away from her and would not meet her petrified gaze. The hands that were previously folded in front of him were now jerking into a rapid, hand-washing motion.

"You know exactly why I've brought you here. You've been putting these thoughts into my head, making me do things I don't want to do, and I'm tired, Mother. I'm so tired."

"Norman, it's not what you think. You-- you must have had one of your blackouts. Dr. Edwards says that you get confused when you have them..."

"This is not a blackout, Mother!"

"Norman, listen to me--"

"No. No! I'm done listening to you. All I've done my entire life is listen to you. I'm through listening to you, Mother, and now you're going to listen to me!" his voice raised higher as he continued to scream, and Norma's lips began to tremble as she tried to swim past his anger.

"Okay. Just-- say what you need to say, Norman," she encouraged, raising a hand to stroke her boy's face. "You've got my attention. Go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me."

He pulled away from her, wringing his hands. "They say that a lionesses cubs are born with an instinctual drive to hunt, did you know that?"

Norma glared at him, confused.

"They're born with an instinctual drive and ability to hunt, yet sometimes, they just need a little nudge. Sometimes, a mother will bring her cubs live prey to hunt, so she can observe their skills and teach them how to improve," he was staring straight through her, as if he could see the scene playing in his own mind. He started to pace, and Norma lowered herself in front of him, perhaps with the thought of making herself a smaller target.

"This-- skill that she encourages, is a rather violent task, if you look at it from a different perspective. Sometimes, the mother lets her young play with the prey until it inevitably escapes," his eyes darted to the couch, "but then sometimes, her own urges grow stronger, until she just can't take it anymore." He must have thought that she was perplexed, for she watched as his hand moved swiftly towards the couch and wrapped around the shotgun that he'd left laying there. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as he brought it up to chest level, brandishing it like he might've if he were going to war.

"Sometimes, she just has to slaughter the poor, defenseless prey, just so her offspring will get the right idea. Then, once she's done it," she watched, frozen with terror as he loaded the firearm, "the instinct really does kick in, and those adorable cubs aren't so innocent anymore," he aimed it at her, and she stepped back, fully intent on avoiding the mouth of the gun.

"We just don't belong in this world, mother," he said, shaking as he held the gun. "We're murderers, you and I. Liars. Thieves. And if we're not careful, it's going to catch up to us, someday," she could hear his breath hitching in his throat, as if he really didn't want to go through with what he was considering. She understood this, knowing her boy, and, with the hope that he might listen to her, drew closer to him, despite the danger that was between them.

"Norman-- please put down the gun."

"I can't, Mother," he whimpered. "I have to go through with this," he cried, "It's the only way, it's the only way to get the voices out of my head...I need to get the voices out, Mother. It will help me--"

"Norman, you don't have to do this. I am your mother, and I am telling you that we can get through this together," she choked over her own words, as well as the words of her son, "We can get through this together, just give me the gun..."

She took the stock in one hand, and caressed his face with the other. "Norman, I love you so much. Alex loves you too, you know that. You've got a baby sister at the hospital, waiting to meet you. Please, Norman," she tried pulling it away from him, yet his grip was like iron and didn't even loosen against her own strength. "Please, Norman, give me the gun, and we can get through this hurt together," she kissed his cheek, and tried prying it away from his grip again.

"You're right, Mother," he said, stepping back from her, although his other hand was latched to her arm. "Neither of us can do this alone. Even if I wanted it to be that way, neither of us could do this alone, because there's a cord between our hearts-- you would die without me, Mother. You've said it yourself, you would die without me. So we have to do this together," Her eyes were wet with tears, and he thought he saw fear in them before she tried jerk her arm from his grasp, "It'll be easier if you don't struggle..."

Deep within the madness that ensued, Norma was sure that she could still hear Dylan's muffled cries. Her eyes met the blank stare of her son as he aimed the shotgun at her right breast and fired.

She fell back with a scream. Her hand went to her chest. She suddenly felt numb, and cold, and scared all at the same time as her hands were met with the sticky, dark liquid that was her own blood. In this moment, she nearly prayed that she would pass out, if it would only stop the pain that radiated throughout her tortured mind and her battered body. Norma knew she couldn't have been so lucky. Although her vision began to blur, she could not avoid the scene in front of her no matter how many times she closed her eyes.

Norman cocked the gun again, before holding it inside his own mouth and firing.

Her shriek split the tense air. Dylan closed his eyes, his crying muffled. It sounded as if her own heart was being ripped out of her chest and held in the air in front of her, and he could only imagine what it felt like. Norma was almost certain that she saw a piece of her youngest son's skull hit the wall, but given the pain and the haze over her eyes, she couldn't be sure.

Norma blacked out, leaving a trapped, mortified Dylan as the only conscious being left in the house.

~ ~

He woke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own.

Norma had never suffered any out-of-body experiences, but she knew exactly what it was like, looking yourself in the mirror and knowing that something unusual had happened.

It hadn't been that hard, really. All she had to do was look in the mirror and see her patched-up chest knowing that nothing would ever really be the same as it was before.

She walked back towards the bed and sat down.

Alex looked over at her. "You wanna talk?"

Norma stared straight on through, ignoring him.

"Norma, we can't help each other get through this if we don't talk about it--"

"Have you ever thought that maybe we're not supposed to get through this?!"

He paused, eyeing her warily.

She hadn't spoken to him in days. They had found her in the house two weeks ago, on the floor in front of a tied up Dylan and a nearly-decapitated Norman. Alex didn't feel strong. In fact, he wasn't even sure that he felt okay, yet he could only imagine what Norma must have been feeling up to this moment.

The moment he saw Norman's lifeless body he thought he would never sleep again. But then he realized, with a fair amount of dread, that his wife had actually witnessed what had happened here, and been victim to it.

Theresa started to cry, and Alex stood, walking over to her crib. He picked her up with such dexterity and ease that Norma was jealous, and refused to acknowledge him even as he held their newborn in his hands. She displayed a nonchalant expression as he rocked the baby, trying his best to calm her down. He reached for her bottle and attempted to plant it in her mouth, yet she squirmed away from him, screaming fiercely.

Alex glanced over at her, expecting an offer to help, yet received nothing in return. He bottled his frustration once again and stood, rocking her gently as he walked from one end of the room to the other.

When Norma first woke up, Alex assumed that her first thought would be for Theresa. "Where's my baby? Is she all right? Is she taken care of?"Those were the questions he prepared for. Instead, she'd said nothing, and it dawned on him. She must have had faith that, no matter how long it took her to recover, Alex would be there to take care of their child. Norma had gone days without eating or speaking, and only stared blankly at anyone who attempted to make conversation with her. It was all too easy for her to be wrapped in her own thoughts; if Alex was here for Theresa, that should be enough, right?

If it hadn't been for his own reputation, he knew she would've been left at the hospital or stuck in some facility where a number of doctors would be trying to take away her pain and convince her to live a normal life again.

"I'm really worried about her," he told Dr. Edwards once. "I laid Theresa in her arms yesterday, and she just-- stared at her. Barely even held onto her. No hint of emotion whatsoever."

The other man was silent for a moment, then spoke, "I've never really dealt with anything like this before, but I think I can give you some advice, based on what I have seen.

You need to make her understand that she can't just expect to be waited on hand-and-foot. It's understandable that she's still grieving; it's only been a few weeks since Norman passed away. However, if you keep up the trend, you're enabling her into thinking that she can sit up in that room forever without a bit of human interaction."

"What are you suggesting?"

He sighed. "This is a highly unusual situation. I'm not suggesting that you leave Theresa completely alone with Norma, at least, not yet. Maybe...leave her alone in a room with the child and start working on something in the house. Whether she starts crying for you or not, Norma will come around. You may just have to ease her into it, let her think that she's doing these little things on her own time."

"You want me to set her up?"

"In simpler terms, yes."

The next morning, about a month after Norman's demise, Alex started fixing up the house. It started out with little things, like changing a lightbulb or two, then excalated into fixing windows and repainting the outside.

Norma woke to Theresa's cries. She blinked, then looked around, realizing that Alex wasn't there. She closed her eyes again, wanting only a little sleep, thinking that perhaps if she lay still and quiet then the child would calm down. Instead, her screams only grew louder, and Norma pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh.

She stood, then walked over to the crib gingerly.

Theresa's hair was thick and dark, her eyes alert and curious by her mother's appearance. If month-old infants did have a thought process, Norma believed that the child wouldn't have even given her a second thought. "Hey there," she whispered, staring down at the baby with a mask of pity.

She wriggled around a bit, cooing and waving her arms. At first, Norma thought she would luck out, until suddenly started crying again.

"Oh, no, don't do that," she chided, reaching in to touch her child's hand. Norma brushed her little hand, shivered, and pulled away ever so slightly. "Alex!" she glanced around, half expecting to hear him coming up the stairs.

Nothing.

She sighed, pursed her lips, then reached in to pick up Theresa. Her arms were trembling with emotion as she sat with the child in her lap, staring down at her with a look that could have easily been mistaken for contempt.

For the first time since she woke up in that hospital bed, she cried.

Theresa looked so much like Norman, and she wanted to hate the child for it, but it was impossible for her to do so.

Norma didn't distinguish Alex's pounding footsteps from the ringing in her ears.

"Norma, Honey, are you alright?" he asked, looking alarmed.

She glared up at him. He figured she wasn't going to answer his question, but then her lips parted as she began to speak, "It's not that I don't love her, Alex. It's just-- the last time I held one of my children like this...the last child I held like this was Norman, and I just-- I can't let the memory go."

Alex sat beside her on the bed. His eyes brushed over Theresa's features, avoiding his wife's gaze.

"It's not a bad thing, you know. Being reminded of him sometimes. It's only natural," he told her. "I think about him too, all the time. And I know I wasn't there when he was born, but it's never really mattered. He was still my son, and I loved him too."

She looked at him as if she had known this truth, yet never really believed it.

"It's good, that you're able to remember him that way. It's better, really. Norman would want you to remember the good times, Norma. It's not wrong to grieve. It's not wrong to cry, or to remember those times that you had with him," he paused, "But we are all our own people. Theresa is her own person, and she doesn't need to suffer for something that happened to us. The best thing you can do now for yourself and for Norman's memory is to take care of yourself, and take care of Theresa, knowing that he would want that."

Norma sniffed, then leaned into him slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I shut you out. I'm sorry that I neglected her. I just never thought it would hurt this much," she cried, "and I never thought it would hurt you this much, either. I'll do better, for myself, and you, and her."

Alex swallowed hard, trying in vain to get rid of the lump that was in his throat. He placed his arm around Norma, remembering the first time that he found her in that little shopping center, stealing peanut butter from old Joe Harvey.

He recalled the first time he watched her sooth a screaming infant; Norman was only four months old and was running a fever while his teeth came in. He remembered helping Dylan fetch his ball from the street, and landing a kiss on Norma's lips afterwards. She had been startled and aggravated at this move, and he apologized, although he knew she was melting over him on the inside. He felt the same way about her now as he had then, scars and all. Neither of them were perfect. Their world was not a happy, flawless utopia, yet it didn't matter. But because he loved her and she loved him, everything would at least be okay.

 

The End


	31. Epilogue

Alex sat on a park bench underneath the shade of an oak tree. Out in front of him was a little playground area, on which Norma was chasing Theresa.

He watched with an entertained expression as a little blonde four-year-old climbed the steps to a winding slide, her brown eyes lit with determination as she did so. Norma snuck to the end of the slide, waiting for her child to slide down before chasing her, and the whole thing would start over again.

"I'm a dragon!" she shouted playfully, after having successfully avoided Norma's grasp.

"Oh, you're a dragon now, huh? Well, I guess Mommy and Daddy are going to need a new strategy for that one--" she broke off, glancing at Alex with a big smile.

Her dress was way too nice for such an occasion, but it didn't appear to matter to her or Theresa, as it had already been splattered in dirt. Sweat trickled from her brow as she peered around the playground equipment, stopped to take a breath, then continued on up the steps.

Her husband watched as she walked the wobbly, swinging bridge to the twisting slide, then surveyed the inside as if she was planning on staying there permanently. Upon reaching satisfactory status, she finally went down the slide, saying something that Alex couldn't quite hear on her way down.

Theresa waited at the end of the slide, giggling at her "silly Mother." Norma joined with her own fit of laughter as she swept Theresa off her feet, bombarding her with a ton of tickles.

"Hey guys, I think we'd better hit the road if we're going to make it to Dylan's on time!" Alex called, shaking his wrist as he checked his watch.

Norma released their little girl and knelt down to her level, speaking in a hushed tone. "Hey Honey, are you ready to go see Dylan and Emma and the baby?" she asked, grinning.

"Uh-huh," Theresa nodded eagerly.

"Alright then, let's go get Daddy so we can go."

Theresa sped off to meet her father with a fierce hug, and he groaned, teasing, "Aw, c'mon kiddo, you're squeezing me too much."

His daughter giggled again. He ran his hand through her tousled, blonde hair, then picked her up. Norma came up behind him, carrying her bag on her shoulder. He paused to kiss her, and Theresa screamed to the world about how gross her parents were being. "C'mon, kiddo, let's get you in the car," Alex said, guiding his family away from the hot playground.

It was a beautiful summer day in White Pine Bay. The waters of sunset beach were a magnificent, glistening blue, and the sands were hot and crowded with people who had rented out beach houses for a relaxing vacation. Norma and Alex had already taken Theresa there many times, yet there was a very different reason for this particular visit.

Dylan had saved up enough money to get himself a house here, and after his marriage to Emma three years ago, she moved to the beach as well. The couple had just welcomed their first child, Katherine "Kate" Masset, and the Romero family had been dying to go visit them ever since. "Now, when we get to the house, you need to remember to be very gentle and quiet around baby Kate," Norma told Theresa. "She's still very little, understand?"

Theresa nodded from the back seat, acknowledging that she heard her mother's words.

"Alright. There's my good girl."

Upon arriving, Alex knocked on the door, making sure that their entrance wasn't unexpected. 

Dylan came to the door, his eyes bright and happy. "Hey, guys, come on in," he whispered, opening the door a little wider for them. "Emma's in the living room with Kate; she's just fallen asleep."

Norma's already soft smile deepened as they walked into the living room. The place was lightly furnished with a beige carpet and brown leather furniture. A smart choice, considering they now had a child to clean up after. "Hello, Emma," Norma whispered. Theresa followed behind her, holding onto her dress with a hopeful glance at the baby.

"Hey, nice to see you," Emma said, smiling. She was holding her's and Dylan's child in her lap, rocking her gently. "How was the drive?"

"Oh, there was plenty of traffic, but you know we're used to it by now," he waited until Norma sat down before planting himself beside her, making as little movement as possible.

"Oh, Emma, she's so precious," Norma cooed, her eyes glistening as she ogled over her new granddaughter. "How are you feeling?" she asked a few minutes later, prompting them both into an intense conversation about everything that had happened in the past week.

Dylan turned to Alex, seeing that Emma and Norma were in their own little world. "So-- how's everything been?"

Alex sighed. "Well, you remember what I was telling you about Norma's nightmares. They're still terrible, but it's gone from being an every night affair to an every-other-night one, which is slightly more manageable."

"And...his room is still there?"

Alex nodded. "She doesn't talk about it, but she insists on keeping his things there. We try to keep Theresa away from it, just because it really bothers Norma to see her in there. It doesn't work very well, though. She's a stubborn little thing."

Dylan smiled. "Guess that's what I have to look forward to," he joked.

Alex smiled. "I'm proud of you, Dylan. That little girl out there...she's got a wonderful set of parents. I'm very proud."

Dylan laughed sheepishly. "Thanks, Alex. I just," he glanced over at Kate, watching as his own mother stroked her granddaughter benevolently. "I can't get Caleb out of my head. We've talked about it before, yet it still doesn't seem real, and I just don't want Kate living with something like this over her head. And I can't hide it from myself. Caleb is dead, but he'll always be a part of me."

Alex was silent. He watched as Emma passed Kate to Norma, who took the baby eagerly, cooing as she did so.

"It's rough, you know. Living is rough. Neither of us want these two to have to face the things we've had to deal with for so long...it just isn't fair, is it?" he laughed. "They'll figure it out eventually, and maybe it won't come off as bad as we think it will. They're strong. Stronger than we think. At least, if they have to face this world, they can face it knowing that we love them."

Norma must have heard at least a piece of the conversation, for she glanced over at her husband with a snort. "That was poetic. Where'd you get it?" she teased.

Emma laughed, and Alex rolled his eyes. "See, this is how I learned to keep my mouth shut," he told Dylan.

Norma eventually took over the kitchen, and before the day was over, she had managed to cook a lovely meal out of the remnants of her son's pantry. They sat, eating a dinner of grilled chicken, corn, green beans, and hand-mashed potatoes (with a little help from Theresa, of course). They enjoyed each other's company, conversing and laughing in that little beach house, grateful for their momentary safety in the mist of the turmoil that was White Pine Bay.


	32. Juno

Norma glanced down at the animal that was laying in the soft, plush dog bed. Her brow was furrowed with frustration, her nose was scrunched, and her eyes brimmed with tears. The blonde woman's gaze drifted towards the door, yet no one was there.

Below her was laying the dim-eyed, golden-haired dog that her brother had given her son eight years ago. A few minutes prior, Norma had heard her painful yelp, and ran to the stairs to see what had happened. She found her crumpled in a ball at the end of the stairs, whining as she looked up at Norma's worried expression.

For a few minutes, she thought that everything might be okay.

I should've known something was wrong, she reflected silently, glancing at her wrapped right hand.

Juno had been in pain, and scared. Even the friendliest dog became a hazard when wounded.

Although it hurt, she couldn't bring herself to blame the dog. I bite when I'm hurt, too, she tried musing to herself.

The first thing she had done (after bandaging her miserably punctured hand) was to call Alex.

"Hey Baby, everything okay there?"

"Ah...no, Alex, it's Juno. She fell down the stairs today and hurt herself and-- she bit me, Alex-- just-- tore my hand apart..." the last part came out broken, as if she was finally starting to realize that the dog might not survive this ordeal.

"I'm coming home. Just-- keep an eye on her, but don't try touching her again. If she's being that defensive..."

She sighed. "What about Theresa?"

Her husband was silent for a few grueling moments. "We'll just have to be honest with her, Norma. She's old enough-- she's old enough...she'll be fine. She'll understand."

Norma grew silent. Her gaze drifted to the floor.

"I love you, Norma. I'll see you soon."

Now he was coming through the door, and she would have to compose herself-- she wouldn't be able to bear it if he saw her this way, mourning over a dog she never wanted like this.

She resisted the urge to go and meet him. Maybe Juno will be fine, she told herself, waiting for Alex to appear in the doorway. Norma cast a final, furtive glance at the dog, knowing that her human instinct for hope and survival were getting in the way of what needed to be done.

Alex paused in the doorway to their room, gazing down at Juno. "Oh, Honey-- we need to take her to the vet. This...I'm not sure she's going to come out of this."

He was close to her now, as if he expected her to crumble, and so, as the tears began to flow, he pulled her to his chest, holding her close. The flood of emotion was so sudden that it scared her, and she enveloped herself in his warmth like a child. She hadn't cried like this in a long time. Just the very thought of letting go of the last living link that she would have to her son-- it killed her in more ways than one.

She knew she shouldn't have been thinking about it so much. She had known what was coming the moment she found that stupid dog near the stairs, yet her brain refused to believe that such an outcome would be possible.

Every time she looked at that dog, she saw her son, and yet she had never seemed to come to this conscious realization. She just chalked up the tender carefulness to her motherly skills, those things that had been so typical for her for a long time, and yet, it was something so similar and yet so different that was driving her to bond with that sweet little dog.

She was finally letting go of the last link to Norman, and it was taking a piece of her heart with it.

Norma didn't have the mental strength to try and explain this to her husband, but a part of her thought that maybe he understood, or at least knew.

"Shhh...hey, it's okay. I know it feels terrible right now, but we should go on and take her. No use letting her suffer any longer," he said, holding her chin between gentle fingers. He hugged her one more time, then moved to the task of transporting Juno to the car.

She sighed at herself, knowing that the worst part wasn't even over. She could only hope that Theresa would handle this better than she had.

Their little girl had grown up with that happy little dog, living under the pretense that it was a gift to herself from her uncle before his passing. Juno had been something special to her: when Theresa was feverish and could barely hold her own head up, that little dog laid by her side, licking her cheek and encouraging her to get better. After a rough first day at school, Juno went nuts and ran to greet her, letting everyone know she was happy to see her little human. There wasn't a day that went by that Theresa didn't stop at the door and pat her dog's head before running upstairs to finish her homework, and Juno, bored without her playmate, would sit at those stairs until Theresa came down again.

The moment finally came. She hardly stirred. Alex held Norma as they watched the life disappear from their beloved pet, her body becoming a shell of what it once was.

They requested to have her body in order to bury her. Alex spent the rest of the evening digging the hole, while Norma picked Theresa up from school.

Her mind was racing. She knew nothing of what to say in this instance; she always tried to spare her children the sting of death by telling them that they didn't have time for a dog. She mentally cursed her brother for a moment, until she remembered what he had told her when they were both only children.

As soon as Theresa climbed into the car, she knew something was amiss. Her mother wasn't so good at feigning happiness as she used to be.

"Mom-- what's wrong?"

Norma's heart pounded. She bit back tears. "Juno-- Juno got hurt, Honey. We had to take her to the vet so that she didn't suffer. I'm really sorry, baby," she paused, noting how quickly things had turned. Already her daughter looked crestfallen and miserable. "She wanted me to tell you, she said, "Thank you for all the good times, Rese. I love you."

A few tears drifted down her own face as she watched her daughter cry alone in the back seat. "She really said that?"

Norma nodded, wiping the tears from against her nose. "Yeah. She barked it to me," she said, feeling a little sillier than she though she could at this moment.

"I'll miss Juno, Mom," she stated bluntly, as if this were an argument she could win by sheer will.

"I know you will, baby. And I will, too. She was a good pup, but I think she'd really want you to be happy with or without her."

It hurt. A lot. But Norma, Alex, and Theresa were strong. It didn't mean that there weren't days where they didn't accidentally call out to Juno or cry because she was gone. But the hurt faded, and eventually, they were all able to look back and smile at the wonderful times they had with a wonderful pup.

And every once in a while, when she was feeling really brave, Norma would pull out that last photo she took of Norman, viewing him as he froze, smiling happily, with Juno the puppy in his arms.


End file.
